BodyHeat
by Sugahlei
Summary: A new take on an old story. There's a club. There's Daisuke. Oh, did i mention the Kaizer on the catwalks? DaiKen clubstory revamped! Rated R
1. Chapter 1

**-BodyHeat-**

How many of you remember an old story about a club I had, long long ago?  
Well, this is it. Again. Only…different. grin Very different. I hope you like it.  
**Disclaimer:** The only ones I didn't make up are the Digi-cast. The rest are mine. Except for Akira, but you'll see why. This is largely _yaoi_, so be on your guard.  
It's contagious.  
**Rating: R – for a reason, people.** Sex, drugs, violence, angst…did I mention it was boy/boy sex?  
Too late now!

**-8-part one-8-  
**-thursday-

Everything happened on a Thursday. This Thursday was no different. It was the Thursday after three weeks of waiting and disbelieving, _the_ day where nothing could get him down—

A Thursday he remembered as the day the hinges of his battered suitcase broke apart and spilled the contents inside to the world. It was a long walk from the train station to his apartment, dark and threatening to rain.

"Damn," Daisuke muttered. He dropped the suitcase to the ground, and began to gather up his stuff. Daisuke smiled even though the broken and useless suitcase was unwieldy and hard to hold while getting his clothes together, even though the sky looked black enough to rain tar.

_At least,_ he thought, wrapping both arms around his suitcase. _Nothing else has gone wrong…_

Giving up on holding it shut, Daisuke looked up and wiped a palm over his shirt. _Should have moved here next week…but then I'd have to do the school thing **and **find a job…_

Daisuke smoothed fingers over his hair at the unwanted reminder. "Yeah, the job-thing, great."

—and then the sky opened itself up. Great. Just great. That made everything just goddamn perfect—

Cursing, Daisuke gathered his things close to him and ducked into the alley.

Rain was the second thing he would remember about this Thursday. Rain, and how he was dripping wet when he ran headlong into the biggest change in his life—

—not that he knew it was the biggest, though.

"Great. What a great first day." Daisuke shook the dampness off his arms under a rickety awning in the back of the alley, still cursing. Daisuke didn't have much money to spend on washing his clothes; he thumped the back of his head into the door. He'd have to wait until the rain stopped to make it to his new place. Hell if he was going to risk dropping his clothes in a puddle just to find a place he'd never—

The door clicked and shifted. Startled, Daisuke turned to face whoever stood there—

And stared. He couldn't help it.

"…Yes?" the person asked. Daisuke could barely make out his features; mirrored glasses hid the eyes and a thin, pretty face; wild dark hair and darker clothes…a strange, elegant appearance, intimidating and attractive all at once.

"Uh," Daisuke managed. Rain dripped in his eyes. "Sorry, I got caught without an umbrella—" He offered a sheepish smile.

"I see that," the head tilted and Daisuke got the impression the boy—girl?—was looking him up and down. An eyebrow rose while Daisuke wondered what to say, what to _do_ when the boy—it _had _to be a boy—stared at him so strangely.

"Uhm…"

"Well, why did you knock?" the stranger finally spoke impatiently when Daisuke went for a full twenty-eight seconds without speaking.

"Eh, that was, um, my head hitting the door…"

The stranger raised a brow. "Ah. So there's nothing you need?"

Huddling in his thin shirt, Daisuke kicked at his suitcase and sighed. He shook his soaked hair and muttered mostly to himself, "Need? I just need a job and an umbrella, or hell, even a car…but god, _money_ would be good—"

"Ah," the stranger said. Apparently amused, he reached up with his thin fingers and pressed something behind his ear. Daisuke heard a crackle, and then the boy said, "Ah, Akira?—No, I haven't locked up. In fact, I've got one more for you."

"—huh?" went Daisuke.

The door swung fully open and the stranger waved him inside. "It's late," the boy said, turning away. "But we'll fit you in."

"But—" Daisuke blinked, catching a glimpse of a surprisingly mild smile. "What? But, hey—"

"You can apply in the back," the other called out before he disappeared into the shadows.

"Are you _serious_?" Daisuke cried, again to himself. "Wait-a-minute—Who the hell _are_ you?"

No answer but the falling rain behind him. Confused, Daisuke reached down and hauled his stuff the short distance inside the doorway, then straightened to peer around with disbelieving eyes. The door swung shut behind him and dropped him into the darkness.

"Apply in the back…? What does he mean, apply in the back?" Daisuke started forward—there _was_ light up ahead, very faint but there. "Uh, hey, hello? Fuck. Where the hell did you go, goth-boy?"

The thin light blossomed suddenly through a set of wide bay-doors; the shadows faded to an unadorned hallway—ahead of him a silhouette of a large, muscled man appeared.

_That must be Akira…_Daisuke thought _I really hope that's Akira…_

"You must be the last one." The silhouette beckoned him forward. "Hurry up—we're running late."

"It's only six," Daisuke protested and stepped forward at the same time. "Er—"

The man moved back until Daisuke could make out the dark eyes, bald head and green t-shirt. His voice was low and mild when he spoke. "Name? Age?" Raising impassive eyes, he waited.

Daisuke finally shrugged and the rain dripped from his hair into his face. "Motomiya Daisuke —I'm, uh, nearly seventeen—" The man frowned and Daisuke nearly asked _'why?'_ but he closed his mouth, covering up his nervousness by wiping wetness away with his wrist. The man stepped back further and waited.

Daisuke realized the man wanted him inside, and darted through.

Then stopped, stunned, and stared. _This place… is this some sort of bar? _The place was huge, if he could rely on the hollow sound of the room. It was dark and had a high ceiling, perhaps even balconies. Daisuke could see tables and chairs and supporting pillars. It had to be a bar. No house looked like this.

And at least he wasn't alone, either. There _were _other people scattered in the small semi-circle of light, all of them sitting down in a nice little circle. All of them wore clothes that Daisuke knew he'd never be able to afford. Some had strangely hostile looks—as if he had kicked their grandma—but mostly, they all looked nervous. Daisuke did a quick head count and came up with one girl, and five boys.

_They've got to be here for the job, too. _

_Hey, **I'm** here for the job, but what's the job?!_

"Motomiya!" Akira snapped his fingers.

"Uh, yes?"

"I asked if you attended school, and where—"

"Actually, I think I start Monday—see, I just moved here, so I'll be going to the Odaiba campus…" Movement to his right, and Daisuke glanced up as the dark boy from before began to stalk slowly around the remaining applicants.

"Hmm…" Catching his attention with a hand on the elbow, Akira and escorted him to a small table with two plastic chairs. "Sit."

Daisuke followed the man's movement and wondered in the back of his mind if he was going crazy—the goth-boy hadn't been there a moment ago. And what was up with the circling thing—was he _trying_ to scare the other kids?

_Pay **attention**, stupid_, he thought when Akira slid into a chair and did the 'I'm waiting' look. Daisuke took the other chair and tried to sit straight and grimaced at the dampness of his pants. "So, what—um, I mean, what would I be doing?"

"Where have you worked before, Motomiya?"

Daisuke shifted—the chair was oddly uncomfortable and he was starting to get annoyed at the fact the man was ignoring his questions. "I've worked in gas stations, a bakery and a factory up north. I got to put little plastic parts together—Okay, you know what, this chair sucks _ass_—"

When he stood up and moved the plastic chair aside with his foot, everyone in the room looked at him—even the slender crazy kid raised a brow as Daisuke found another table nearby that had chairs, and pushed one towards the table.

_What? What's with the looks? _Daisuke thought and wondered if that was a smile the stranger was hiding behind his hand; everyone else looked shocked. He dropped to the chair and tried not to jiggle nervously. _Did I do something wrong already?_

"I…see." Akira's eyes crinkled slightly, but Daisuke had no idea if that was a good thing or not. "Alright, Motomiya—have any skills?"

"I'm good with people, I'm a decent cook—um, I can pick up new skills pretty fast—"

"Alright. One last thing—and this we can verify, Motomiya, so answer truthfully—Are you clean?"

"Uh…" _Well, shit. _Daisuke felt the slightest hesitation before answering. "Yes."

The bald man looks at him for a long three seconds before asking, "How long?"

"…five months and two days."

A moment of silence that had Daisuke nearly squirming. The man looked up, and said, "Ok, that's all. You can have a seat with the rest." Akira stood and walked off into the shadows before Daisuke could respond with a simple 'thanks'

"…that's it?" Daisuke muttered to himself and did as requested by moving his chair to the group. "That's gotta be the weirdest interview I've ever had—"

"Ex-_cuse_ you," the singular girl muttered when he brushed by her.

Daisuke blinked when he sat down, nervous enough to finger the charm-bracelet on his wrist. "Yeah, whatever. Hi to you too," he mumbled. Everyone looked as if they were rich, which wasn't unlikely, and Davis strangled the sigh when he looked at his own clothes.

Footsteps. A part of the group now, Daisuke was the only one to look up as goth-boy circled the seven of them. Again. _Okay, that's still a little weird_, Daisuke thought, fidgeting.

"Um," Daisuke said after moments of uncomfortable silence. He started slowly, looking up, around, everywhere he could because the place was so _huge_. "This is a club, right?"

Again with the staring; Daisuke shrugged defensively. "Is it?" he persisted when no one answered.

"It is," the teen walking in circles answered. "You didn't know?"

"Just moved here," Daisuke replied. _At least he's answering my questions. _"Is this…I mean…aw, fuck sounding stupid, but what's the job, anyway? And who are _you_, goth-boy? And what's up with the rest of you asswi—er, um applicants?"

Soft laughter echoed, bouncing in the emptiness and Daisuke watched the only girl flinch when a hand brushed her chair.

"Are you stupid?" some kid across from him hissed. "Shut up!"

"You will call me Kaizer," the dark-clothed boy whispered when he was behind Daisuke. "And, please, refrain from asking your questions until later."

"Oh, okay," Daisuke replied. "Sure thing—but—"

The Kaizer made a soft noise; Daisuke jumped when fingers brushed back his hair, tilting his head back until he saw pale skin and a curving smirk, heard vague threat in the other's voice. "But?"

"But I don't even know what I'm trying for," Daisuke protested. _What the hell is up with the touching?_ "And no one's telling me."

"Don't worry about that," the Kaizer replied and patted him on the head. "Enjoy your chair."

_Huh? Chair? What about my chair_? _He's crazy. He's gotta be crazy_, Daisuke thought, looking down between his knees at the chair. Okay, it was brown and made of wood. Big deal—except, when he looked back around at the other applicants, theirs were plastic. Like the crappy plastic one that _he'd_ had.

…_oh. They got the crappy chairs, too. Is that why they're all pissy?_

_Well, too bad. If they're too bitchy to switch chairs, it's not my problem._

-8-

He had trailed around them just past ten minutes when the Kaizer decided that the group had waited as long as possible, as _awkwardly_ as possible, so he pulled aside one of the nicer chairs and sprawled into it. Three of the boys averted their eyes and shifted, immediately uncomfortable with his nearness despite the fifteen-foot gap between them.

_As it should be_, the Kaizer thought, amused. He glanced without moving towards the newest, interested just a little more.

The boy Motomiya hadn't reacted; brazenly enough, he was leaning back, a small notebook on his knee, content to ignore everything until something else happened.

Interesting, indeed.

Static crackled in his ear and the Kaizer leaned back, curling two fingers to hide his mouth, clearing his voice until he could drop it low enough to remain unheard. A moment later, he heard Akira ask "_Kaizer?_"

"Mmm?"

"_What's your opinion?_ _"_

"…aside from the obvious? Hmm. None."

"_Liar."_

"Have you found anything?"

"_Well, a few checked out and the rest lied through their teeth. The small blond has ties to a lesser gang._ _"_

"Motomiya?"

"…_clean slate, odd enough. Can't find anything definite."_

"Nothing?" the Kaizer exhaled shortly, pressing his mouth against his hand, voice nearly silent. "No history at all, even after admitted use?"

"_Nothing. I've only run the yellow scan on him. You know it's not uncommon for kids his age to experiment and move on without ever getting caught with it."_

Kaizer tapped his finger once, twice, and made his decision, unaware as his eyes lingered over the tanned expanse of Motomiya's forearms. "…It doesn't matter. I'm keeping him. Make the necessary arrangements and get rid of the others. Maybe call the blond in a few weeks, but I only want Motomiya for now."

He could hear Akira pause, his slow breathing. "_Well_," the man finally said. "_I'll do a red scan, then. When do you want him to start?"_

"Tomorrow. Let me know. I'm going to kick them out, now."

"_Sure. Have fun. See you tomorrow."_

The Kaizer pulled his feet away from the table and let them thump onto the floor, uncurling until he stood, sudden and sharp. Eyes rose to his figure, startled and fleeting and he nearly grinned at the fear that he could see.

"Alright," he drawled with a white-razor smile. "Get out. You'll be called if we decide to hire anyone presently here."

There was a faltering silence and confusion as the Kaizer crossed his arms and waited. Half-heard whispers, disbelieving mutters. One by one, they all rose from their chairs and the Kaizer watched Motomiya slide his notebook away, eyes darting to the others for hints on what was happening.

"_Now_," the Kaizer commanded and they all quickened towards the exit.

The Kaizer followed them at a short distance, silent and acid-sharp presence. Followed until Motomiya was the last he could see, bent over his bag and trying to force it shut.

He stepped closer. There was no one near, no one around. "Motomiya," he murmured. "If I may have a moment?"

Motomiya looked up from where he was kneeling on the suitcase, surprised. "Yeah?"

The Kaizer paused in what he was preparing to say, looked down at the suitcase and murmured, "My, is that _all_ you own in this world?"

Motomiya rubbed absently at the back of his head, shrugging. "Um, sort've. I kinda…didn't have a lot of time to pack."

"Mm, I see. That sounds like a bitch." the Kaizer said, mild. "Do you still have questions?"

"Eh…um. Sure. What _is_ this place?"

"Akira's club. The name he chose is _BodyHeat, _or 'Heat for short." The Kaizer paused, tilted his head. "What's your favorite shape?"

Motomiya blinked at him. "Lightning bolt? What the hell? Who _are_ you?"

"I've already answered that," the Kaizer brushed at his clothes. "Really, Motomiya. You're not good at this game. Have you ever worn a dress?"

"Game? You're playing _games_—what? Uh…actually, this one time when I was five…" Motomiya trailed off as the gears shifted in his head and the boy realized what 'game' the Kaizer was referring to. After a moment, Motomiya's mouth twitched into a smile. "Do you have a real name?"

_Odd boy, _the Kaizer thought. _…that's something no one ever asked_. "Yes. Why are you living by yourself?"

"What makes you think that?"

The Kaizer gestured to the suitcase. "I'm far from stupid. Do you like hamsters?"

"Only if I can kick them," Motomiya shrugged. "You gonna tell me your name?"

"No. What will you do if you don't get a job?"

"I'll get one eventually. I'll be okay for a few months, anyway. Does _anyone_ know your name?"

"Mmm," the Kaizer smiled slightly. Persistant. "No. Tell me, Motomiya. If Akira chooses to hire you…would you accept?"

"What do you mean…?"

"Our policy is to hire only when we have an opening. We haven't made that decision yet; Akira-san would like to be sure that anyone working for us _wants_ to work here."

"uh…Are you always this weird?"

"I prefer eccentric. Answer me."

"…I don't know anything about this place _or_ you…um…people. I can't make a decision like that right away—"

"Yes or _no_, Motomiya. You only get one chance to answer."

He watched as Motomiya tightened his jaw, tapped a thumb against his mouth and exhaled, finally.

"I'd give it a go, yeah." Then, firmly, "Yes. Yes I would."

The Kaizer showed his teeth in a smile. "Excellent. You start tomorrow."

Motomiya stared at him, dumbstruck. "…you mean—wait—what? Are you fucking real?"

The Kaizer lifted his brow in amusement. "You don't want the job, then?"

"Hell no—I mean, yes, of course—I'll be here by—what time do I have to be here?"

"Five. Dress well."

Motomiya grinned at him, bright and wicked-sweet and the Kaizer tasted heat rising through his spine. The moment passed quicker than thought and after a breath he heard himself say, "Until tomorrow, Motomiya." Turned to walk away, smiled to himself.

"Hey, I don't even know what I have to do, yet!" Motomiya called after him.

"—Five, Motomiya, don't forget!" The Kaizer waved without turning and kicked the bay-door shut behind him, fell back against it and laughed softly.

-8-

Daisuke found himself standing on the damp sidewalk on the front of the building, battered case at his feet and his backpack to keep his belongings dry. Alone, the sky darkening into evening, now he had to find his apartment and he was still over ten blocks away. _Time to find a bus,_ he thought, tucking the case against his side to keep it closed. He trotted down the street.

Half a block down was the bus-stop and Daisuke gratefully dropped to the bench with the junky case in his lap.

"Holy shit. I've got a job. I've got a goddamned job!" he finally said, quietly, and sat there. He wasn't sure if he was ready to laugh at the sheer incredible _thing_ it was, this job, this _income_—this changed things entirely.

This was gonna be fuckin' _awesome—_

-8-

"There was a better choice, Kaizer."

"Perhaps." The shadows that Akira stood in didn't reply, didn't move, but he knew the older man wanted to know. Shrugging fluidly, he murmured part of the truth. "He's interesting to me. Obvious past, but no record. Clean _now_, but that doesn't tell us what he's _done_. He's… very interesting."

"He'll be attending your school. _Your_ school, Ken. Yours. This isn't a good idea."

"I don't need your advice on that. Besides, why would he ever speak to shy, ostracized Ichijouji?" The dark teen pulled off the mirrored lenses, sliding cold blue eyes to where the older man stood. "There's no reason to worry, so stop lecturing. I get enough from my father." He paused and narrowed his eyes and said, flatly, "Don't ever use my name here again."

Akira made a stiff, frustrated sound, but the argument was already over. "This could become very bad and you know it."

With one last glance, Ken slipped back into the glasses, waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll take that chance. I'm leaving Go home Akira. I'll be late as it is."

"As you wish."

When the man was gone, the Kaizer walked a few steps forward and idly ran his hand along a black-painted pole. "It could," he murmured to himself, amused. "It could get very bad."

-8-

Minutes passed by as fast as the cars, and Daisuke amused himself by examining the surroundings; this would be his neighborhood, now. He wondered if there was going to be anything _fun_ to do, or if that building was a school, or who lived in the apartments across the street. When he finally looked up, he saw a bus rumbling up to his corner.

Daisuke shoved his suitcase to the side and jumped up to the open bus-door . "Hey, you going down the road the next thirteen blocks or so?" Daisuke asked.

"Yeah, yeah, get in already," the driver was already waving him in, impatiently. Daisuke grinned at him, and dropped as much change as he could find in his pockets. Giving the man a 'one moment' gesture, he jumped off the step.

Stuff in hand, Daisuke jumped back up and practically skipped down the aisle; he went all the way back and slid into the only seat. He leaned into the cushion and pulled his backpack onto the seat, propped a foot against his suitcase.

The bus sat there for a moment before Daisuke glanced up. Through the blur of the glass he noticed another person walking up to the bus. He followed the motion with his eyes and saw the driver nod to a slim, pale-skinned boy in a gray student uniform, watched the stranger walk the aisle without looking at anything but the floor.

_No place for him to sit,_ Daisuke thought and flicked his glance away from the approaching student. After a moment, as the boy drew near, he pulled his backpack into his lap without a word.

The kid turned his way, face half-hidden by strands of dark hair. The expression on what he could see of the face seemed startled. Motionless, the boy tightened his fingers over the handle of his bag. Daisuke wondered if the boy would hold onto the grips on the bus the entire time rather than ask to sit.

"Thank you," Cautious, the kid sat down quietly with his bookbag in his lap.

Daisuke shrugged. "'S cool,"

Minutes passed; the bus rumbled past four blocks or so before Daisuke gathered a closer glimpse of the boy, admiring and intrigued. Odd for a boy with fine handsome features and soft attitude to be out here. Too pretty. Too neat. Too _clean_ to be on a bus at this time, in a city that Daisuke used to know.

God, he had to ask. "So uh…why you on this bus?"

"Excuse me?"

The boy looked at him and Daisuke saw his eyes for the first time; inhaled over the static in his chest at the startled, indigo-blue color and half-smiled for the sight of them. He worried at a lip, then smiled again and shrugged. "Why're you on the bus? Where you going?"

"…home. I was at the library."

"…you're a nerd, aren't you?" Daisuke grinned. "Not that it's bad, I know lots of nerds. They'd probably throw a book at me or something if they heard me say that, too."

The boy looked away; Daisuke couldn't tell if he was offended or not. He had to wait, though, for almost a minute before the boy sighed and replied, dryly.

"I suppose I am. And you? Are you homeless?" the boy glanced strangely at his suitcase.

"Nope—not now, anyway. I've got an apt on Fifteen and Eight, down this street? Yeah, I just moved and my suitcase broke—god, I've had the weirdest night and I've only been back in this city for ten hours. Fuckin' unbelievable."

"Is that so?" the boy said, glancing with those fascinating eyes. "Where did you move from?"

"Oh, back from Tamadachi district. My sister set up the apartment here, you know, because my dad thinks I'm a freak and keeps trying to kill me."

"…indeed," the boy murmured, brow marred faintly. "What street did you say you were on?"

"Fifteenth and Eight?" Daisuke said, blinking. "Do you know it?"

"Yes," the boy gestured to the window, smiling faintly for the first time. "We've just passed it."

"—_Oh shit_," Daisuke leapt to his feet, scrambling for his things and squeezed past the stranger, yelling "_Stop_, please!" at the driver.

Outside, he skidded over a puddle, thinking _There it is—this is it!_ as he ducked into the doorway of a ten-story apartment. Staggering, he hit the latch with his elbow, and pushed inside sideways. Halfway through, the bus roared and pulled away from the curb.

_That boy_, Daisuke thought, looked back to see if he could get one last glimpse, watched the bus leave with a strange, discarded sensation. The kid was unseen and it was dark…

_I'll never see that guy again, _Daisuke thought wistfully. _Man. Wish I knew his name. He might've been fun._

-8-friday morning-8-

He got out of his sleeping-bag after nine, stumbling over a few boxes that his sister had left in his apartment, and wandered into the kitchen. _Hope she stocked my fridge, too_, he thought dully, pulling open the door and greeted himself with…not much.

Well…at least there was some milk. He could work with milk. Oh, look, hey, apples...

There was a piece of paper taped to the milk; it crumpled under his fingers as he opened it and drank. Mildly curious, more interested in going back to bed, he pulled it off and peered at it.

Hey, dumbass, go talk to the school about classes. 

"Love you too, Jun, but that doesn't tell me where to _go _when I get there," Daisuke muttered, sighing. He flipped it over out of habit—and laughed.

_Try the **office **and ask about registration, stupid. I've already filled out most of what you need. Have fun and call me when you get a phone_.

"Well, that answers that. Yay. School. Might as well get it over with."

-  
TBC

well. Some of you may remember the original as something very different. You're right; it's completely backwards and I love it. XD There was so much more I could do, this way, and I hope it tweaked you enough to read on.

Let me know what you think, people!


	2. Chapter 2

**-BodyHeat-**

Onward part two….and yes, still…different. grin Very different. Still with me?  
**Disclaimer:** The only ones I didn't make up are the Digi-cast. The rest are mine. Except for Akira, but you'll see why. This is largely _yaoi_, so be on your guard.  
It's contagious.  
**Rating: R – for a reason, people**. Sex, drugs, violence, angst…did I mention it was boy/boy sex?  
Is that flirting I see?

**-8 part two 8-  
**-friday afternoon-

"Uh, hi, who do I talk to about registration?"

The lady behind the desk blinked quickly and repeatedly at him, birdlike, and smiled nervously. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I just moved here, but my sister said I should ask you guys about classes and stuff…"

"Well…without an appointment…Oh, I can look, at least. What's your name? Do you have an existing record with us?"

"Motomiya Daisuke and I have no idea." Daisuke smiled sheepishly. "Jun said that she talked to you about most of it, but I have to pick the classes or something…So…"

"Let me see if you've had a file started…" She typed in his name and clicked through whatever programs popped up. After a moment, the secretary reached over and flipped through a file drawer. She pulled up a thin manilla folder and handed it to him.

"Here you are—this is a list of possible classes, the teachers and the according events you may wish to participate in. All you need to do, now, is pick out six or seven classes and fill out the paperwork. Since you've arrived in the middle of the semester, however—"

Daisuke glanced up from opening the folder and skimming words, thinking _Trigonometry? I don't even know what kind of class that is—_

"You won't need to attend classes for several months, Motomiya-san. Since you're here, take some time to finish the paperwork, alright?"

"Wait—so you're saying I don't have school until—two months?! Are you _serious_?"

"Of course, Motomiya-san. Arriving this late is pointless, according to many of our teachers. They believe new students should start at the beginning—"

"Hell _yeah!_" Daisuke grinned, scooping up the papers and the pen the lady offered. "Thanks, ma'am—I'll drop it off when I'm done! I can sit in the hall, right?"

She gave him a shaky, timid smile and nodded.

His shoes squeaked on the floor; Daisuke dropped to his butt and pulled the file into his lap, pen between his teeth. His mind whirled—no _school_ no goddamn _school_ for almost eight weeks—

"Fuckin' _awesome_," he whispered to himself and forced himself to write neatly.

-8-

Less than an hour later, Daisuke wandered over the school grounds to get familiar with the buildings and tried not grin at the people whispering in the wake of his passage. _There's 2B South_, he thought, looking at the slip of classes and then up to the building in front of him. _Next, east wing—_

_Maybe I should check out the food, too_…

He pulled out the handy little map he had gotten from the lady at the desk and examined it. The sun was warm on his back and around him groups of students were chattering and eating. Food Service wasn't far; according to the little tally of times and numbers, there was lunch from eleven until two—and they could eat outside, too—for a highschool, this was pretty sweet.

"I like this school already," he said, and grooved down the pavement, heedless of the fact that students lingered all around, watching and judging and worse. He didn't care if they gave him looks or whispered after he moved past; he didn't give a damn what they thought.

Hell, might as well give them a preview of what they were gonna get—

Wait-a-minute—

…_no way_, Daisuke thought, disbelieving eyes drawn to someone further down the pavement. _No way he'd be here—_

Grinning his trademark 'eat shit and burn' smile, he sauntered up to the table where the person-in-view leaned back against the table, turned away from Daisuke's approach. A younger, dark-haired boy involved in the conversation looked up, startled, and Daisuke jumped onto the back of his prey.

"You!" Daisuke half-yelled, half-laughed as the other boy yelped and squirmed. "I'd know that bucket-hat anywhere, TP!"

"Get the hell off—" Startled blue eyes over the shoulder and the blond boy twisted away from Daisuke. "…Motomiya? _Motomiya_ _Daisuke?! _Is that you?"

"The one and only!"

"…holy fucking shit!" the blond, Takaishi Takeru, whooped and dived in for a hug. "Where the hell did you crawl out of? What are you _wearing_?! What are you doing here?"

"I moved back a few days ago 'cause my dad kicked me out last week—and these clothes are cheap, shuttup—and I get to go to this school. Pity they let losers like you in, though," he winked and held his hands out as if burdened. "Oh well, guess idiots gotta learn too."

Takeru slugged him almost-gently and laughed. "Yeah, you should talk. Last I heard, you were in the hospital half-a-year ago. How've you been? Here, sit—"

Daisuke straddled a chair, nodded to the dark-haired boy still watching him impassively. "Life is fuckin' awesome, man. Like, on my _own_ and kick-ass _job_ and I don't have to do the class thing for two _months_—which is _awesome_. Hey, when did you live in this area, anyway? Thought you went to that preppy school whatsit-whatever."

"I did—but then the districts decided that there weren't enough students per school and merged. Hey, Hikari goes here, too you know—"

"Really?"

"Yeah—my god, she's gonna flip when she sees you." Takeru nudged the other nameless youth. "This is Hida Iori. Iori, this is Motomiya Daisuke. We used to run around together—"

Daisuke grinned at the boy. "—whatever you heard, it's all true. I swear. Except for the mutant rabbits."

The boy Iori managed a polite smile. "I haven't heard anything about you, actually."

"What? My god, the horror—what kind of crap are you teaching the young and impressionable these days, TP-roll?"

"Teaching them _not_ to skateboard blindfolded, for one—"

"Hey, you dared me, bleach-addict. Besides, I only fell off once."

"You only _tried_ it once."

Daisuke grinned, shameless, and they started laughing at the same time. "Can't argue with that," he managed. "So what's life like? How's Yamato? Does he still do that band thing? And what—what's everyone been doing?"

"Well—I haven't heard from Koushiro or Taichi recently—you can ask Hikari when she gets here. Yama's good; he's working up-town at a bar. Aside from that…I dunno. I'm not involved with that right now. Yama got all 'You have to worry about school' on me and shit."

Daisuke glanced at Iori, then back to Takeru. The blond let his head slant slightly to the side. "Cool, cool. I don't blame you. I won't have time for party-pranks for a while, anyway. I'm not talking too much, am I?" Daisuke asked the younger boy.

Iori disagreed with a polite shake of his head; Daisuke noticed he had continued to eat while listening.

Takeru spoke up. "Don't worry bout Iori; he's always quiet and that's okay. So what's new with you? Why'd you end up here, if your dad kicked you out? Thought you'd mooch off Jun or something."

"She set up my place, actually. And my dad can go suck dick for all I care. Fucker put me in the hospital, you know—"

Takeru blinked, startled. "I…Really? Yama didn't tell me that. He just said you ended up there in bad shape…"

Daisuke shrugged. "I was. Best damn thing ever happened to me, too."

"…weird. Yama said the same thing," and the look on Takeru's face translated to _What the fuck happened?!_

"Yeah, but he didn't tell you half the shit I got into, Takeru. But fuck it, don't worry about that. Are you gonna eat that?"

"…Good to see you haven't changed," Takeru leaned on his palm and pushed his half-empty tray towards Daisuke, grinned at Iori. "So what do you think? Will he fit in and behave?"

Iori shrugged, took a sip of whatever fluid he had in his water-bottle. "It's hard to say. I don't know him yet."

"Me, behave? Never. Fit in? Well, possibly…not? Don't care—" Daisuke cut himself off, eyes scanning the crowd when Takeru nudged him, pointing. "Hey, is that—That's Hikari?" He whistled softly at the slender chestnut-haired girl who hadn't seen them yet, saying only "Damn she's got a nice set of…"

—before he blinked and saw the pretty-eyed boy from before, curled up on a bench under one of the willows, ignoring the world for the textbook in his lap. Couldn't speak because something started to dance pleasantly in his chest, even when Takeru started laughing.

"This just gets better and better," Daisuke murmured to himself.

"She's pretty, isn't she? Don't tell her, or she'll preen for days—or hit you, like before."

"I wasn't…" Daisuke trailed off, speculative. Glanced back to where Hikari was standing, talking to a group of girls and said "Think she remembers me?"

-8-

It was work to tune out the drone of other students, work to focus on the text in his lap instead of worrying about everything that wasn't school—work to even try and ignore the idiots that mocked him not-so-secretly—

Even so, with his stomach insisting on food and his brain insisting on studying, Ken couldn't help but hear the loud, reverberating _"Hikarii-babe!" _that was hollered up on the hill—

Startled, like everyone else, Ken raised his head to see—

_Oh my god_ he thought and swallowed the thump in his chest. _He's already here?! _and debated on panicking—

Motomiya, arm up over his head and waving, grinning to a girl that Ken never bothered to know—obviously they were acquaintances—there was a blond he _did_ recognize—

The girl in question stared at Motomiya and Ken could see her shock, too—could see the derision blooming on the faces of his fellow students. His eyes were drawn back to Motomiya, then back to the girl when she squealed out something and started running—

Motomiya caught her in a hug and the momentum swung them around. They were laughing, Ken realized, staring, fascinated, _horrified_ somehow because—

Because he had been right, and if Motomiya knew _those _people he would never get a chance to talk to Ken as he was, now; those 'friends' would never allow Motomiya to speak to _Ken_ and that had to be the best thing.

Shuttering his thoughts and the distasteful relief in his chest, Ken dropped his eyes to the textbook, then shut it with a slam. Exhaling, he slid it into his bag and pulled out his lunch and tried to distract himself.

-8-

Hikari was babbling and he couldn't decipher a thing she said. She was laughing, though, and Daisuke gave her a second squeeze on the notion he'd get his ass kicked if it was for any other reason.

"Oh my _god_ Daisuke! Oh my god! It's been years—where have you _been_—"

Flutters of his old, grade-school crush tightened his chest and he missed the rest of what she was saying; she'd grown up into a beautiful young woman—

"—and Taichi said you nearly _died_, Daisuke—" he heard, blinked, moving eyes up to her face and not her legs.

"Uh…really?" he said, sheepish. Takeru was behind him and he didn't need to see his face to know the blond was surprised.

"God, Daisuke—what the fuck _happened_ with your dad?"

"Wait, what about your dad—?!" Hikari questioned, shocked, pulling back to look him over in case he was still bleeding.

"It's a long story," he said, trying to smile it away. "I'll tell you later."

The silence dropped around them and Daisuke could hear the whispers. He shrugged at the worry of his re-found friends and waited; hoped they wouldn't push it.

"Well, come and sit—you've met Iori, right?" Hikari said brightly. "You can tell us all about it later—and don't think that you won't!"

"Yeah, yeah," Daisuke allowed himself to be dragged by the hand until he was sitting at the table again. "So who'd you kill to get those legs, 'Kari?"

"Beast!" she gasped, smacking him on the arm. "I should've known the first thing you say would be something dirty—"

"Hey, if I remember the last three seconds right, I think the first thing that I said was your name—"

She giggled and pushed at him. Daisuke straddled his chair, except this time, as he casually looked back, he made sure he could catch glimpses of the teen from before. So much for catching his attention; it looked like he was eating now.

"So what are you doing here?" Hikari leaned on folded arms. "Did your family move back here?"

"No—but I've got my own apartment!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah—wanna party sometime? Oh, you're invited too, TP."

"Hah ha-hah, asswipe."

Daisuke couldn't help it; he glanced again and watched two bites of a home-made sandwich disappear. "No, seriously, I'll have some sort of party. I want to celebrate getting away from home, meeting two still-cool people—"

"_Still_ cool?—"

"—yeah, well, if you keep wearing clothes like that, preppy TP-wad, I'm going to start wondering what the definition of cool is."

"_My_ clothes? My god, Daisuke—have you looked at your pants?"

"Hey," Daisuke protested. "I love every stain on these jeans! These are comfort jeans! Besides, these jeans are cooler than your hat—"

"He's right on that," Iori replied, quietly, blandly and Daisuke dragged his eyes away from the nameless pretty to grin.

"See? _Someone_ thinks I'm right for once!"

"Trust me," Takeru leaned towards Iori. "He's never right."

Hikari was watching him with a teasing smile, setting aside her soda to ask, "Alright—enough about the pants—who do you keep looking at, Daisuke? Someone else you know?"

"Uh—what? I wasn't looking…"

"Who?" Takeru exclaimed. "Don't tell me he's looking at the girls, already? Where—"

"I wasn't checking out anyone!"

"He's watching Ichijouji," Iori stated. "Ever since he saw Hikari."

Mouth working, Daisuke exhaled and looked away, chin on hand. "Was not," he muttered, mind seizing on the name. He stuck out his tongue. "Traitor. I thought we were in on this together, Hida."

_Ichijouji_, he repeated to himself. _Ichijouji, huh?_

"Ichijouji?" Hikari giggled. "Why would you—"

"Him?" Takeru echoed, derisive. "Ichijouji 'the Weirdo' Ken? Don't tell me he actually _spoke_ to you somewhere—"

Startled by the sheer poison in the blonde's voice, Daisuke sat up straight. "Weirdo—what the hell, Takeru? I met him on the bus yesterday and yes, he talked like any normal person! Last time I checked, you weren't such a judgmental _bitch_—"

"He's a nerd, Daisuke. A geek—he doesn't even have any friends. _Nobody_ hangs out with him."

"Takeru!" Hikari admonished. "Stop that; he'd have friends if he wanted. The girls all think he's pretty and he's smarter than the three of us together—"

"He's a _freak_," Takeru replied, dryly. "Why the hell were you looking at him, anyway?"

Daisuke drummed his fingers. "Yeah, but it sounds like he's freak because everyone _else_ thinks so—God, TP you're a dick, sometimes. And Koushiro would kick your ass for judging someone based on 'nerdhood' and you know it."

"Koushiro's different."

"Okay, fine. _Yamato_ would kick your ass for that."

Takeru didn't reply; a blush bridged high on his nose and he scowled. "_Fine_, so what," he finally muttered. "You can ask anyone else if they think Ichijouji's a geek. They'll tell you the same thing."

"I don't care about the opinion of 'anyone else'—"

"He's not even your friend, Daisuke—why the fuck are you defending him?"

"No, he's not—but he's sure as hell a lot nicer than you—"

Daisuke slid in his chair until he couldn't see Takeru, scowled to himself. "Can't blame me for giving everyone an equal opportunity—" he muttered. "Unlike other groupie-type bastards—"

"Fuck off, Daisuke—he's a nerd and doesn't have any friends because he doesn't _want_ any!" Takeru snapped. "People _have_ tried, you know, but he doesn't _bother_ to talk to anyone that's not his equal—"

"Don't tell me to fuck off—wait. What time is it?"

Hikari held out her watch; her mouth was full.

"Shit," Daisuke exclaimed, standing so fast his chair screeched. It was almost one-thirty. "I've gotta go—gotta get ready for work—we'll continue this later, nerd-hater—"

Takeru rolled his eyes and didn't answer. Daisuke pushed his chair back as Hikari asked "Job? You've got a job, too? Where do you work?"

"Some club ran by some _freaks_," Daisuke replied, mockingly, snatching a cookie to put into his pocket. "I've got to be there by five, but I need to dig through my boxes to find some clothes for it, first—" He paused to give Hikari a half-armed hug. "Good to see you, 'Kari—say hi to Taichi."

-8-

It had been a long time since he had heard the hissed-whisper silence as deep as this; it crawled over his body and needled him, so he drank the rest of his water and crumbled up the empty bag. It had nothing to do with him. Ignore it.

Movement up the hill; he looked up against all will and watched Motomiya stride down the hill and wished he _had_ been watching what was going on, because the expression on his face—why did he seem so agitated—

Oh god was he coming over?!

Ken let his eyes hide behind his hair, swallowing fear and panic. Motomiya shot an angry glance over his shoulder, almost stomping, and stopped two feet away. Ken tried not to look at him fully, tried to breathe—what if he _knew_—

"Hey—um, thanks for the other day," Motomiya said right off the bat. "My name's Motomiya Daisuke—I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, and I figured that you at least deserve that—"

Ken wanted to smirk and say _'I already knew your name,_' and knew he couldn't. Oh God. He pressed his lips together, glancing up and away again, uncomfortable as Motomiya shifted with a half-smile.

"—and I heard your name, so, you don't have to talk to me or anything—I just wanted to say thanks. So, uh, thanks."

"…you've already mentioned that part," Ken heard himself reply faintly. "You don't have to thank me for common courtesy…" and trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to say. Why was he even replying? Encouraging interaction was the worst possible thing—

"Yeah, but…uh, anyway. I gotta go, so…yeah. Bye. And really, thanks—" Motomiya grinned boyishly and Ken _still_ couldn't understand it, even as the silence around them crackled into ice for Motomiya's unexpected conversation choice.

"Goodbye, then," Ken murmured, brushing at his hair and trying hard to tell himself to stop _watching _even as Motomiya took two steps backward, turning, walking away—

_Don't worry, I'll see him tonight_, he thought inwardly, giggling on some deep level at everything slipping sideways, forced himself not to rip out his hair to keep the sound inside.

-8-

Daisuke took his time on his way back from what would be his school, nearly giddy with the way everything seemed to go _right _all of a sudden—

_Goddamn that boy was pretty_, he thought. Pretty in a way that should be illegal. He let himself scowl as Takeru's unkind, herd-mentality echoed and felt a vicious sense of amusement at the thought _–and what if we get to be friends? What's TP gonna do then, huh? Go crying to his buddies how the nerds are infiltrating his world—_

…_stupid TP._

He bounded up the stairs to his apartment, unlocking his door and sliding through—giddy in the next moment with the thought _My place! Mine!_

He stood there, breathed deep and did a silent little victory dance, wanting to scream with delight.

Time to get ready.

-8-

No one could ever say if they saw the Kaizer arrive or not; one moment, he was just there, floating through the shadows in his hostile, off-center way and no one ever asked.

On Friday, Ken arrived just past four and found Akira waiting in the room when he slipped through the hidden door.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Ken muttered, already out of his sweatshirt and undoing his pants. "What do you want, anyway?"

"He's clear," Akira said, amused. Dutifully, he stood and faced away from the paleness of skin, heard the rustle, clinking and soft jingle as Ken assembled the Kaizer both physically and mentally.

"…really? Odd. I believe he's got ties to Ishida."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"He knows Takaishi," Ken said, flat and bitter. "I saw him at lunch, today. He…nevermind. It's not important."

"Well, did you know his records show he lived in this area five or six years ago? Moved off with his family to—"Akira paused to check a slip of paper.

"Tamadachi," Ken murmured before Akira could get the words out. He smiled to himself when the man paused with a vexed look. Ken shared his smile over his shoulder, and shrugged into a sleek, black film that passed as a shirt.

"…is there anything _else_ that you might know?"

Ken lifted a shoulder in response, fixing a belt into place. "He's living on his own; sister set up an apartment. Parents kicked him out…and his father, apparently, thinks he's a freak."

Akira glanced down to his paper, huffing softly. "Well, I got the apartment and family history...so where'd you get _your_ info, Kaizer?"

"He told me himself," Ken said, and didn't mention that it was as both Ken and Kaizer.

Akira didn't question it. "Did you want to hear what else I've found?"

"Of course."

"Let's see…Like I said, he's clear, no real history. He's been in the hospital three times in the last year due to 'a few kids kicking his ass', according to the doctor's statement. Last one was the most serious; spent a week in the ICU with a concussion, fractured skull and three broken ribs."

"When?"

"Roughly five months ago…" Akira paused. "Coincidental?"

"I doubt it," The Kaizer shook out his arms, flexing his hands in his gloves, sliding feet into the heavy, mid-length boots. He propped the left on the edge of his desk to tighten the straps and zipped up the side. Did the same with the right, looked at Akira and said, "Is that all you found?"

"Pretty much. Standard trouble-maker file, I suppose."

"Good. I still…" Ken paused, puzzled with something that he wasn't quite sure of, yet. "I still want him here. He could be useful. Dig deeper, though. I'll make a wager he's full of surprises."

_Like talking to Ichijouji, social outcast. _

"Sure. Anything else you want me to know—not about Motomiya, but for tonight?"

"I'm sure you've thought of everything," Ken murmured, voice inflection already the drawling purr of the Kaizer, opening the door to his small bathroom. "I'll be out soon."

-8-

The smell of the gel was sharp, almost acidic. Bent at the waist, Ken shook out his hair with one hand on the sink to keep his balance and waited for it to dry. Stared at the leather of his boots and wondered, briefly, if it was too late to change his mind.

—_he's too unpredictable,_ he told himself. _It's too risky. He'll ruin everything._

…_but…I know he'll be useful. He's different._

Straightening so fast his head spun from the rush of blood, Ken stared into the cracked-glass of his mirror and shook his head again. Wild, dark hair settled around his face, concealing, _changing_ him, until he couldn't bear his reflection and closed his eyes.

_Besides_, he thought to himself. _What does it matter as long as I refuse to associate with him outside of this place? I've made my decision, and here, this is my world._

_Pointless to change the rules…_

_He's already one of mine._

-8-

Akira knocked his clipboard on the table to get everyone's attention. "Listen up," he said. "We've got a newb tonight, be nice. I don't think he'll have a problem fitting in—"

"Yeah?" young, blond runner Takahara called out. "What's he like? Who picked him out? Is he cute?"

"The Kaizer did," Akira replied. "His name's Motomiya Daisuke. He's a little different, Takahara; he might out-do you in flair."

Takahara grinned at him. "Doubt that."

Akira only smiled. "He'll be Obi's runner tonight—" he nodded to the brown-haired male. Obi nodded back, shrugging as if to say 'Okay, sure' and Akira checked over the list of things to remember. "Like I said, he shouldn't have a problem. You might even end up liking him—"

"It doesn't matter if they like him or not," the Kaizer remarked from behind him, without warning. Akira turned his head to watch the boy stride forward with his wolf's smile. "He's here; someone go show him in."

-8-

Even when he stood before the same door in the space of two days, Daisuke couldn't quite believe this was happening. He looked down nervously, picking at invisible lint from his red-patterned shirt. The fishnet underneath was itchy, and he hadn't had time to adjust to the clingy, psuedo-leather pants.

'_Dress nice_' _he said,_ and Daisuke shifted until chains and bracelets jingled. _Here at five. Well, it's gotta be close enough—_He raised his hand and tugged one more time at the goggles in his hair, the itchy hem of his shirt. _This can't be real…_

But it was; he was here, dressed up in his finest and all of his nervousness on his sleeve. Daisuke took a deep breath with a mental _Here we go_ and reached out to rap his knuckles on the door.

Within moments he heard it unlock and watched it creak open; Daisuke faced a man about twenty, dark-haired and brown-eyed and smiling brashly.

"You must be the new guy," the guy said.

"Motomiya Daisuke—"

The man smiled at him and opened wide the door. "Yeah, I heard. Call me Kyosuke. Come on; we're just about to start."

Daisuke followed the young man down the hall; he remembered that, at least. This time it looked different with the dim lights and the distant mumble of voices. The wide double-doors that led into the central area were propped open; beyond them, people…

But this time, as Kyosuke led him through and started talking, he could see just how big the place was, how complicated and surreal. It was _huge_.

_Warehouse_, Daisuke thought, looking up. _It must have been one, once._

"This is where everyone will be tonight—you're gonna be on first for a while. That way," Kyosuke motioned to a set of black-painted doors framing a hallway. "Surveillance and the office. No one gets in there unless ordered; you've got to be on floor or camera duty."

Daisuke nodded absently, eyes widening and he stepped slowly, turning, looking up and _up_ until he could see everything—they moved out under the low ceiling and he realized it was really a second floor that stretched into balconies and walkways. Black pillars and catwalks ten, fifteen feet high—

And higher, as he made out a dim red-light area that was smaller and set high above the second floor.

"Damn," he muttered.

"Cool, isn't it? Each floor is different, you know. The first floor is for dancing and drinking; don't ask me to explain how the drinks work; we just run them to the tables. Obi will be your prov, so ask him." Kyosuke laughed. "Second floor is reserved for fucking—"

_What did he just say?_ Daisuke thought, startled. _Fucking?_

"—and you don't need to worry about the third floor."

"…what's on the third floor?"

Kyosuke looked at him oddly, grinning. "You really don't know shit, do you? Man, they said you were newb, but damn—" he raised his hands in self-defense when Daisuke glared at him. "Hey, hey, take it easy; let's just say that this place can give you three of the best things in life. Sex, booze and drugs."

All of a sudden, Daisuke had the skewed sense of falling in _way_ over his head.

It was made worse, as he turned to see a group of twenty-some people watching him, whispering, smiling and laughing and _staring_—the only two he recognized were Akira in the middle and the Kaizer lounging on a railing. The latter had a box balanced near his drawn-up leg, rummaging through it and examining whatever was in it.

"Good to see you're on time, Motomiya," Akira said. "Here's how we work. This area is a strictly controlled area. To get in, you've got to be on the list. To be on the list, you gotta pass the test. You don't need to worry about anyone who gets in here; you just need to get them drinks; the Kaizer will explain the hardware to you."

Daisuke nodded, adjusting his goggles, crossing his arms and listened as Akira explained the staff. _Drugs, handing out fucking drugs—I don't like this—I should've know there was a catch—_

"You'll be a runner—which is running drinks, basically. Each runner has a provider, who takes care of the drinks and tabs. You'll get your scanner from Obi—" Akira motioned to a brown-haired male not much older than Daisuke; he waved good-naturedly and Daisuke tried to smile. "First floor has all four provs, two runners that stay on first and two that go between the first and second floor. There's only one stairway up to second, and from there, only one way up to third. We only have one pair on third; you don't need to worry about going up there—"

"Where the drugs are, right?" Daisuke said flatly, provoked into unease; he couldn't stop himself from saying it. "What kind of fucked-up shit you serving there, anyway—"

Akira paused in the quiet that Daisuke caused. "If you have any problems, you talk to me or Kaizer."

"I want an answer," Daisuke spat. "What the fuck is this place? Drugs? You serve drugs like it's candy—"

"—Motomiya," Akira began and Daisuke _hated_ being stared at like he was half-a-brain short and cross-eyed.

The Kaizer reacted to his presence for the first time, raising his head languidly, somehow piercing even if his eyes were hidden. Daisuke couldn't help but feel intimidated; it didn't help that everyone had stopped whispering and kept _staring_ at him, wide-eyed and astounded.

"Everyone and every _thing_ has a purpose here," the Kaizer said monotonously. "It's not _yours_ to question our system."

Daisuke hissed, "Fuck _you_, goth-boy—"

Someone gasped into nervous giggles and the Kaizer smiled coldly.

"…holy shit," someone muttered off to the side. "Five on the Kaizer—"

"You accepted the position," the Kaizer said after a moment. "You'll understand soon enough. Now shut your face and come here."

Daisuke stared fiercely at the pale skin, dark-tainted mouth. Mirrored lenses that hid the eyes. Narrowed his own eyes and didn't move, more confused than angry—

"_Now_," the Kaizer said softly. "Or get out."

"Do as he says, newb. It's not what you think." someone said quietly at his side; a hand pushed gently at his shoulder. Daisuke looked at a heavy-set and muscled man that appeared middle-aged. A bouncer, maybe? He felt himself forced a few steps forward, frustrated, upset—how did it get as fucked up as this?—and clenched his jaw.

The Kaizer fished out several strange-looking items before he handed the box to a lean tallish man with long black hair and kohl-rimmed eyes. "Runners, get your shit from Yuichi. Motomiya—"

Daisuke scuffed his feet and uncrossed his arms to shove his hands in his pockets, unable to explain to himself why his legs moved him forward. Around him, the group scattered but for the guy with the box, Kyosuke and three others.

The Kaizer dropped off the railing, leaned against it and gestured impatiently. "I don't blame you for misunderstanding," the Kaizer said once Daisuke was close enough. "I'll explain it later, once you learn your place."

"Funny," Daisuke muttered. "But I don't see how giving people drugs is good in any way—"

"It is when you control the situation," the Kaizer replied. "And if we only have a certain few drugs—and test everyone who wants to get to third—doesn't that tell us who's finding something we don't offer? Trust me," the dark youth smiled and it wasn't nice. "It serves a purpose. Here, your toys."

Daisuke stared at him then hesitantly reached for the objects held in the hands. "So, okay…?" he asked, turning over a small flesh-colored object, silver rings and what looked like a thin leather collar, and…some sort of bracelet pager thing.

"…what a _newb_," someone said in the group of runners.

Daisuke watched the Kaizer's eyes flick to the speaker, and then the wild-haired boy murmured "I'm sure you'll forgive me for tossing you to the wolves."

Daisuke swallowed at the statement—not the words, but the odd tone—swallowed harder when the Kaizer took him by the chin.

"This earplug," the other boy said, picking up the smallest object. "is our communications. You'll hear all the information you'll need through this. Where to go, what's ready, who, what, and where."

Daisuke nodded as the Kaizer took the cold, somewhat squishy earplug and set it in place.

"You'll mostly hear orders from Akira or myself, and I suggest that you obey each and every instruction no matter what you think. Do you understand, Motomiya?"

Daisuke touched his ear, glancing back to the face and started to nod.

"Good. I won't tolerate actions that put my staff into jeopardy. This is your vocals." The next to be lifted out of Daisuke's palms was the smallest ring. "It will fit over your lip and has a mic installed so if you have a problem, we'll know. This is your activation." The Kaizer held up the next ring.

"Gonna put that on for me, too?" Daisuke muttered, half-joking.

"I…" The Kaizer paused to look at him, caught in a shutter-frame of tautness. With a peculiar, amused expression, the Kaizer slid his hands around Daisuke's cupped fingers. "If you insist…although I have no intention of sticking my fingers in your mouth." He slipped the larger ring to the base of Daisuke's thumb, raised a brow.

"You're supposed to kneel, first," Daisuke muttered under his blush and caught the edge of a flashing smile. He took the lip-ring himself and slipped the open end over his lower lip, half-wishing the Kaizer would have opted for that as well, half-dreading what would have happened if he _did_.

"The button on the side of your ring will activate your vocals," the Kaizer replied, speculative. "Don't lose it."

"And this?" Daisuke swung the loop of leather on his finger, thinking _This is hi-tech shit—what the hell **is** this place? First the drugs, now the spy-kit—_

"That's to make you private property," the Kaizer was saying. "All of the runners wear them to prevent some of the more…eager customers from harassing you."

"Great. I love kinky jobs," Daisuke couldn't help the brief laughter.

"Indeed," the dark youth stepped to the side and waved a hand. "Put it on while I explain the rest."

As he started talking, Daisuke fiddled with the clasp of the collar, listening as the Kaizer explained that anyone entering the club would have an ID bracelet registered to a private account; the account, Daisuke learned, was a file with basic information and a certain amount of money. A runner's job was to get to the table, take the order on the small key-pad, and run the account through the bracelet. Who and what they wanted would appear on Obi's equipment; and all Daisuke had to do after that was fetch it to the table.

Simple, really. Daisuke managed to fasten the collar, sliding it until the little metal tab dangled in the front.

Finally, the Kaizer thumbed at his mouth, tilting his head as he ran eyes against Daisuke's appearance. "You'll do," he said finally. "Party starts soon; go talk to Obi. But really…goggles?"

"Hey, these goggles are an heirloom!" Daisuke adjusted them defiantly. "They're cool!"

-8-

"That looked cozy," came a mellow female voice. "Getting soft?"

"Rika." The Kaizer let his teeth show through his smile, reached out and tapped on the black pillar to drop the cable, yanked on it. "Do I look soft?"

The third-floor runner snorted. "No, but you _like_ eating them alive, Kaizer-boy. What's so special about the new kid?"

"Nothing but a whim," he replied sharp and teasing. "Just like you were." The padded loop slipped around his wrist and he kicked the pillar. From the corner of his eye he caught the rude gesture Rika tossed him, returned it, and let the cable haul him upwards.

-8-

"Dude—_Dude_—you've got to be one crazy-ass kid to go and challenge Kaizer—"

Daisuke looked up and found himself surrounded by the remaining group of kids—_the other runners_, he thought. _They get to do the same thing I do._ He blinked as a small, narrow blond jumped in front of him.

"Fuckin' god that was unbelievable—you weren't dropped on your head, were you? Do you know how lucky you are?" The blond spun away from him, arms up over his head and muttering, "Damn, flair my _ass_—Goggles don't count as flair—"

"Kaizer could've ripped you a new one," the brown-haired young man standing next to Daisuke said. "Seen him do it, once."

Kyosuke pushed them both forward, saying "Shit, Yohei—who hasn't? Man," he said with a look at Daisuke. "You always this crazy?"

"Who are you people?" Daisuke sputtered, confused, walking with them. "Ever hear of introductions? I'm not fuckin' psychic—"

"Takahara," the blond said, every movement quick and flurried. "Woo-ee, you're spicy. I'm on first with you tonight, hotstuff."

"Yohei," said the second, unnamed man. "I've got second with Kyosuke."

"Don't tell me you forgot my name already—" Kyosuke sighed, hand over his heart. "And after I let you in and everything…break my goddamned heart. Break it right in half—"

"Jeez, Kyo—get the money back from your drama classes, I don't think it's working—"

Kyosuke swung at the blond, cursing and laughing in the same breath. He slung an arm around Daisuke's shoulders, tugging him close until Daisuke relented with a smile; Kyosuke grinned and squeezed. "See, here, this crazy boy and I, we go way back—"

"Yeah," Daisuke replied. "All the way to the door. Where am I supposed to find Obi, by the way?" Maybe this wouldn't be so bad—at least his co-workers might be fun. Fun was good.

Takahara spun to walk backwards, one hand floating in the direction they were headed. "He's over there—number Two. He gets to sit down all night and make drinks, lucky bastard. We do all the hard work."

"It can't be that bad," Daisuke slipped out from Kyosuke's arm, looking at him sideways. "Not as bad as his deodorant, anyway," He grinned again when Takahara burst into laughter and Kyosuke pulled out a long-suffering expression.

"He's _quick_ with the words, ain't he, boys?"

"Come on, Kyo—" Yohei grabbed his arm. "We've got checklist."

"Bye, you two!" Kyosuke waved with his free arm, winking cheekily. "Don't pee on the carpet!"

"Come on, hotstuff," Takahara called, already some distance away. "Obi's this way."

Takahara led him to an alcove set deep between two of the black pillars. Obi—the bland-faced man from before smiled to see them. He was wiping glasses and setting them on shelves.

"Motomiya," the prov said in greeting. "Did Kaizer show you how to run the scanner?"

"No," Daisuke said. "But I know what they're supposed to do—how do I put it on?"

Obi laughed, reached for his arm. "Easy—fasten the two straps around your wrist. The scanner is on a retractable cable. Long story short, type it on your keypad, scan their ID and _ding_. We only have nine available drinks, one for each number; don't worry, most of the customers know what they are, so you won't have to say anything but _'What'd you want?'_"

Daisuke fiddled with the weight on his arm, pulling at the scanner. Hit the tiny keypad with exploring fingertips, twisted his arm and exhaled. "Okay," he said. "Now what?"

Obi pointed to his ear, smiling easily. "Nothing. Wait and listen until we get a crowd." The young man leaned on the lacquered wooden surface. "Besides, if you survived Kyosuke and Takahara, you'll do just fine."

The lights dimmed, brightened, and lowered again. Music thumped into existence, deep and rippling. Daisuke looked out over the first floor, drew in a breath and thought _This is **still** fucking awesome_.

Movement above and the Kaizer was striding along the narrow path of the catwalks, sleek and undeniable in grace; his face tilted in Daisuke's direction before he disappeared around the curve of a pillar.

Static in his ear: _"Time's up. Doors open. Get to work, people."_

Then, softer, in a voice that left Daisuke an impression the Kaizer spoke only to him. _"Get ready, Motomiya. **We** aren't the wolves."_

TBC

I certainly have a lot more going on in this story, don't I? Don't worry, you'll still see the same scenes, only worked into different spots and used for different reasons.

Upcoming drama – Daisuke picks a fight. Yamato picks a fight. Reunions and restaurants and…the Kaizer lost his shirt?!


	3. Chapter 3

**-BodyHeat-**  
Everyone still paying attention?  
**Disclaimer:** The only ones I didn't make up are the Digi-cast. The rest are mine. Except for Akira, but you'll see why. This is _yaoi_, so be on your guard. If you _don't_ know what that means…you shouldn't be reading.

**Rating: R – for a reason, people**. Sex, drugs, violence, angst…did I mention it was boy/boy sex?

**_Some terms you should be aware of_:**  
'Providers'(or provs) are the people who make the drinks.  
'Runners' are the waiters and/or servers.  
'Floors' are the people who watch the cameras and doors.  
'Eyes' are the people that Ken has stationed about five feet from the ceiling; they watch the people and spot fights or problems.  
Accordingly, the Kaizer is head of security, hooked up directly. He literally has the entire system in the palm of his hand… :3

--  
**-8 Part 3 8-**  
(Friday, 4:16 pm)

"Yo," was Ishida Yamato's traditional greeting, whether in person or on phone.

"Hey, Yama—"

"Takeru? What's up? How's school?"

"Yeah, it's okay—" There was a pause; Yamato held the phone with a shoulder and strummed a few absent chords, waiting until Takeru exhaled and asked, unexpectedly, "What happened with Daisuke's dad? Did he really put Daisuke in the hospital?"

Startled, Yamato managed a "What the hell? Who told you _that_?"

"Daisuke did. I saw him at school and he's moved back or something—he said something about his dad kicking him out—"

"Really," Yamato mused. "I thought he might. And yeah, his dad beat the shit out of him."

"Oh."

Takeru was quiet for a second; Yamato took a moment to set his guitar down and leaned back in the effort to crack his back. "Alright…so was he trying to piss you off, or something? "

"No, not really," Takeru exhaled. "He says hi…I just didn't know…"

"Idiot had it coming."

"Yama!"

"He _did_," Yamato replied impassively. "He was in too deep with the wrong end. His dad caught him first."

"Yeah, but…"

"Trust me," Yamato murmured. "I would've beat his ass too, if I had known. How's he doing, then?'

Takeru made a disgruntled noise. "I suppose he's okay. Jun set up an apartment, and he's got a job—he starts school next month."

"Yeah? How long has he been in town?"

"Less than a week, I think."

"Huh. Little shit must've gotten lucky. Where's he working?"

"Some club, I guess."

"Club?" Yamato paused with a smile, and wiped traces of it from his voice. "You _sure_ you're not pissed off?"

"_No_," Takeru insisted sullenly. "He was just being Daisuke."

"Come on, Takeru. He really twisted your chain, I can tell. What happened?"

There was a long moment where Yamato heard nothing but a strangled sigh, then "It's just—it's stupid. _He's_ stupid. He bitched me out over _Ichijouji_, like the prick's his best friend—"

"Ichijouji?" Yamato repeated, surprised. "Where did he—"

—_a club_, his mind connected. _Daisuke's new job._ _Ichijouji—_

—_Oh god, that little bastard's working for Ichijouji—_

"I don't care. Daisuke said they met on the bus or something. It's _stupid_, though. Daisuke got all mad 'cause Ichijouji's a freak—"

"Takeru," Yamato said quietly. "Ichijouji's not a freak."

"…whatever," Takeru made a face at the phone and toyed with the cord. "Look—Hey, mom, no—I'm talking to Yama…Mom says hi."

"Hi back."

"_Hi back, mom!_" Takeru called. "—yeah, I'll be right there! I gotta go."

"Yeah, sure. Feel free to call."

"Nn. Later."

The phone clicked. Yamato stared at it, amused and surprised and irritated, all at once. "Ichijouji, huh?" Yamato shook his head and set the phone on the cradle. "Dammit, Daisuke, you little _punk_."

Less than a minute later, his phone rang again in the middle of a chord.

"Dude!" was the first thing he heard, before he could even try a greeting.

"Tai?"

"Did you hear? Daisuke's in town! This is awesome. Have you talked to him, yet?"

"—yes, Tai, I've heard. Takeru told me."

"This is _awesome_."

Yamato could almost see Taichi's grin of excitement over the phone, speaking dryly. "Yeah, as long as he stays out of trouble. Takeru mentioned our lucky little wiseass got a job at the club."

"True, but this is Daisuke. Trouble is like…I dunno, candy to him. What club? Where's he working?"

"_Ichijouji's_ club."

"No shit? Damn…" Tai whistled softly, only silent for a second. "Does he _know _that Daisuke's_—_?"

"Don't think so. We'll probably have to keep an eye on him, but I'm not worried yet. I'm gonna head off Ichijouji with some ground-rules."

"…yeah, but what does _Ichijouji_ know?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out."

--  
(Friday, 11:49 pm)

The Kaizer let his finger flick the sensors wired secretly in his gloves. ID numbers lit briefly beside their dim counterpart names and status—one ID for every face and name registered by electronic signal of each bracelet. A list constantly scrolled inside the left lens of his glasses and the Kaizer watched them with absent manner of long practice. Several hours into the night, the Kaizer hadn't moved from the upper catwalk in nearly an hour. Standing there, his back thrummed with the subsonic vibrations through the metal he leaned against. Even without the conducting structure, he could almost _feel_ the sound in the room.

He touched a thumb to the com-link and selected the solitary com. "Obi," he said, leaning into the pillar. The bass thumped through the steel and the music drowned all but the loudest whoops and shouts out; Kaizer had no doubt no one but Obi could hear him.

"_Yeah?_"

"I trust things go well?" the Kaizer scanned his gaze slowly over the fluctuations of the crowd below, registered and ignored the dim shine of the names still scrolling along the inner curve of his shades.

"Better than well; kid's a natural." 

_And that doesn't surprise me_, Ken thought with eyes tracking the wild mop of hair through the crowd and shadows, unable to pinpoint the irritation, the puzzlement_… why_ it bothered him.

"Kaizer?" 

"Hmm?" Ken exhaled, tearing his eyes away to scan the crowd for more than just the normal outbursts, catfights and scams. He tapped fingers against his leg and thought of how Motomiya had made his first run to the table, shy and grinning, how the boy never seemed to stop moving. How he had chanced to see Motomiya dancing to his tables not long after the head-count had been reached and the doors shut for the night.

"_Keiichi's spotted a problem in the third sector. I've got Nobusaki and Eiji headed there; you're backup if they can't handle it."_

"Understood. Notify Hisato, just in case."_ (1)_

Still interested and somehow annoyed, he watched as Motomiya balanced the serving tray on one hand, engaging Takahara in a brief whirling dance-off as they passed each other, then slid up to his table; the Kaizer could only assume the music had possessed him. Part of him wondered how much muscle it took to snap his hips like that.

No, he concluded after a moment of speculation. …the question is how much trouble he will cause. 

He didn't have long to wait.

--

Daisuke found out the hard way why everyone thought the Kaizer could chew you up and spit needles. It was after midnight, but with the party was in full swing, Daisuke had no sense of time with the confusion of dropping straight into the mix of names and faces and sheer abundance of crowd, but he wasn't having too many problems. The few appreciative hands he could deal with, and a spilled drink or two, well, that was expected.

Even the music was good; he couldn't resist dancing on his way to the tables, swamped by a cocky cheerfulness he didn't have to fake.

It felt like everything was going great, even as Daisuke walked up to one of the tables in his section, the farthest in the corner and half-hidden in shadow. It was then he noticed something…odd. He'd been to this one several times and while one or two faces had changed, three of the four young men hadn't ever gotten up.

And the round he'd brought previously…

It could be just the shadows; they were really dark in this corner. Out of habit, Daisuke grinned as he slid into place. "Hey, I've got a two, four and another six," he said, sliding them one by one to the four occupants of the table placed back in the shadows, only a flicker in his smile to give away his suspicion.

"Thanks," the shortest drawled, blond and skinny, decked out in tight fabric and glitter, young and out of place next to the larger, college-age jocks. Nodding, Daisuke flicked off a short salute, spun his tray into his hands and sauntered off.

_Damn,_ Daisuke thought. _I hope I'm just seeing things._

At Obi's station, waiting for the next set of drinks to deliver, Daisuke asked softly, "Hey, uh, how do we deal with scamming?"

"Scamming?" Obi glanced at him, raised a mild brow while he filled the cup. "Didn't anyone show you the rules?" He reached out a knuckle and tapped a piece of paper, framed and hung on the wall.

Daisuke took a moment to scan through them.

**Rules and Regulations  
NO FIGHTING - of any kind, for any reason, including but not limited to weapons, emotional baggage, or discussion of property.**

NO THEFT - of any kind, at any time, including but not limited to drinks, drugs or person(s). Further clarification or problems concerning the aforementioned, contact any staff-member.

Final Warning: ANY infraction will cost your existence within this building, with a minimum sentence of _one month_ applied to each charge, and excessive force _will be _used, if necessary. This does NOT include whatever penalties you may pay beyond my walls.

**If you're reading this, you have no choice but to submit.**

_This just gets even more fucked up the longer I'm here,_ Daisuke thought. _Follow the rules or I'll kick your ass? Damn. This is going to get me in so much trouble._

"If you think you have someone, you should tell the Kaizer. Here, you'd better have a copy." Obi handed him a folded slip of paper. It stuck to his fingers with the condensation from the glasses.

"Don't know yet." Daisuke slipped it into his pocket before he grabbed the thick plastic cups, set them in place and balanced the tray on his palm. "I'll let you know," he shrugged and shook wetness from his free hand with a glance of speculation.

_Like the condensation streaked all over that table. _

Half an hour later, Daisuke swung by the off-side table and asked "Hey, how you doing?" he glanced at the table from the blond's cup to right in front of the only man not drinking.

"Another round!" one of the others shouted.

"Sure, why not? Arms up, please!" Daisuke pulled the scanner out on its cable and reached for the nearest wrist on the left side of the table. Again, he received a total of three orders and the dark-haired heavy-muscled man, Yasuhito-or-something, seemed more interested in conversing with the pimple-faced brunette on _his_ right.

_Cheap-ass bastard_, Daisuke thought, dropping his eyes to the drink that belonged to the blond. _I **invented** that, asshole—_The streaking condensation said otherwise. Daisuke sized him up from under his lashes while he took the second order.

_I don't have to take this shit,_ he thought, indignant and irritated.

Then, without bothering to think about it twice, Daisuke let go of the second boy's wrist and ignored the blond's upheld arm, smiled brightly at him. "Okay, guys, I'll be back in a—"

"Hey, _hey_ waitaminute!"

"Didn't you forget someone?"

"Nope! Yasuhito, right?" Daisuke smiled wider at the man and let the cord _ziiip_ back. "You think I'm stupid? You wanna drink, you pay for it yourself instead of ringing up your buddy here."

"…is he _serious_?"

"You're refusing to take an order?"

"What the hell? Can he do that?"

"_No_, the dipshit can't—"

"Bullshit I can't!" Daisuke snapped back, smacking his tray down onto the table, smiles and cheer wiped away. "You've been using his account to buy your drinks, you monkey-faced cheap-ass shit—" he leaned in when Yasuhito started cursing. "You either offer up, or do something else. Your choice."

"What?!"

"How the fuck would _you_ know?" the pimple-faced third sneered.

"You—"

"I invented this game," Daisuke scowled and leaned in with one upheld, warning finger. "I'm better at it. Make your choice, bitch."

The asshole gave him two seconds of narrowed eyes and shoved to his feet, chair clattering. The blond beside him flinched, hunching, pushed out of the way and hitting the floor as Yasuhito tried to come at Daisuke, too fast to dodge away—

"Fucking _newb_—"

—On instinct, Daisuke clocked him over the head with his tray, furious, snapping, "Get your own, asshole!"

He would've gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't bumped the ring on his thumb. Daisuke heard a perfect second of screeching static and then someone tackled him. Pimple-face, probably. The blond was dragging himself out of danger.

"_What the hell was that?"_ the Kaizer snapped in the moment before Daisuke hit the floor. The irritation was hard to miss. The floor knocked the breath from him and saved him the trouble of exhaling when the fist of pimple-face hooked down and into his side just as painfully.

"_Kaizer!" _That was Obi—

"_Hey, does the newb know we're not allowed to fuck with the coms?"_ Takahara?

What the hell—did _everyone_ have to listen in?

Then the voices reduced to white-noise with the asshole on top swinging fists at his head. Daisuke didn't have a chance to answer, taking a punch high on his shoulder and half-blocked another, tasted blood when the next one landed and left him with a bitten tongue and lacerated cheek. Hissed and twisted around to stiff-arm the bastard clutching his back, then kneed him in the kidney. Yasuhito-something was staggering to his feet with help from a chair, bleeding from a gash on his cheek and temple.

Daisuke half-blocked another punch and gave out one of his own and tasted blood when someone's foot kicked him on the side of his face. Tasted a _lot _of blood. The inside of his mouth was bleeding more than he wanted.

"_What—oh **shit** we've got a—" _sounded like Takahara again. "_Hey—**hey**!"_

"_Motomiya!"_ was Obi, alarmed. _ "Kaizer! Motomiya's down—"_

Daisuke cursed and kicked the asshole trying to kill him with hair-pulling in the gut and heard a grunt in pain. Daisuke squirmed enough to slam an elbow to the soft flesh just under the collarbone. The grip on his hair loosened enough for Daisuke to buck him off, just in time to catch the foot aimed at his stomach.

"**All of you shut the fuck up!"**

"Sunuva_bitch_," Daisuke heard or gasped, curling in pain and gagging on the blood in his mouth. He had enough strength to grab the ankle and twist it, ignored the ringing thud of the painful pressure in his ears—god that fucking_hurt_—scrambled to his knees and caught the knee meant for his face on his forearm.

"Fuckin' _kill you_—"

Easy to ignore the swelling pain in his face when Pimple-face crashed to the floor, easy to ignore when all he wanted to do was kick the shit out of them and force-feed it down their throats. Daisuke punched Yasuhito just below the sternum when he tried to join, watched him stagger back and noticed he was caught by a wrist and a handful of hair—swallowed half the blood in his mouth and spat the rest, then punched that one too while still on his knees.

—motion in the corner of his eye—

It gave Yasuhito enough time to yank Daisuke by his much-abused hair, rearing back to strike with one knuckly fist.

"Oh_shit_, Yasu—" one of them cried.

—and something _crashed_ onto the table—Daisuke had the wrist of the offending hair-pulling hand in his grip and didn't know how he was going to dodge the fist aimed at his face—

—was he hallucinating black, buckled boots on the table?

No, his hallucination was dropping off the table to kick Yasuhito's knees out from under him. Before Daisuke could register it, the Kaizer twisted with the momentum to take down the other by the knees and somehow ended up with one knee lodged against the middle of Yasuhito's back. Daisuke could see one gloved fist on the tied-back hair yanked tight, hissing with the painful tugs on his hair as the Kaizer pulled away on the hand not connected to his hair; he watched in savage satisfaction as Yasuhito went up on his toes when the Kaizer tried to introduce it to the shoulder blade.

"_Let go of my property_, Yasuhito Uzumi, or I'll break every bone in your neck without killing you," The Kaizer said coldly in his ear, yanking back his greasy hair.

The fingers loosened; Daisuke smacked away the hand, scooting out of the way and seeing in one glance through the head-rush of adrenaline the blond hunched on the floor; the two friends of Yasuhito were stiff and frozen in some sort of anxiety attack and Yasuhito himself grimacing with pain, still as stone.

Daisuke quietly spat as much of the blood in his mouth as he dared, unwilling to try standing yet. For a moment, no one moved. Around them, the club swarmed and flowed; the music was a counter-throb of pressure to the pain. Daisuke wasn't sure if anyone saw or not; he had the suspicion that every time the Kaizer was off his catwalks, people watched.

"—and_you_," the Kaizer hissed without letting go, without looking his way. "Explain what stupidity you think you're doing, Motomiya. Is there a reason for this situation or do you _like_ getting your ass kicked?" The Kaizer paused long enough to haul Yasuhito in a different direction. "_Sit, _Uzumi. Do me the favor of moving, I dare you."

"He was scamming drinks off the blond," Daisuke rasped. "I refused service, he tried to hit me so I clocked him with my tray." Wiping a hand over his mouth, Daisuke narrowed his eyes as the Kaizer shoved Uzumi into the nearest upright chair with one final acidic stare.

Such explosive fury in that calm, drawling _dangerous _voice and part of Daisuke twisted weirdly to think it might turn his way. A part of him was more interested in spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth, but he swallowed it again.

"Is that _so_, Motomiya?" the Kaizer muttered, tugging on the glove of his left hand, gaze sliding to the three assailants. All but Yasuhito flinched and cursed as something _blipped_. A red light outshone the green on their bracelets.

"This isn't fair!" the smallest cried.

"Hey, I gave you a choice!" Daisuke snapped back, tentatively feeling his cheek.

"Ya_su_!" Pimple-faced, the one who kicked him in the stomach whined, then threw up his hands. "Aw, _fuck_ this. I like this place—How long am I red?"

"_All_ of you are red-status for two months," the Kaizer replied impassively. "You know the rules. One month for false acquisition and one for assault. You have five minutes to log out."

"All of us?"

"Two _months_?!" Yasuhito finally snarled. "This is bullshit! I paid good money to get in here, dammit, you can't just—"

The Kaizer inclined his head and responded dryly. "Well, of course. The appropriate measure is six. I hope it suits you."

Daisuke didn't like the anger trembling out of Yasuhito's control. Grimacing, Daisuke set a hand to his side and tried to force away the cramping ache in his stomach, nausea twisting his throat. _Swallowing too much blood_, he knew, _isn't good._ Daisuke winced at the throb in his wounded mouth and the way his stomach protested with a crushing ache and suggested nausea.

_Better watch the asshole, _he wanted to say, but the cut in his mouth was still bleeding. He wasn't sure he should move his jaw, yet, but he couldn't force himself to swallow any more. Daisuke carefully spat as much as he dared, his stomach grateful to be on his knees yet.

The sound caught the Kaizer's attention. He glanced at Daisuke , unreadable, jaw set with some annoyance but Daisuke couldn't tell what it was. Yasuhito uncoiled off his chair, grabbing it in the same motion and using the momentum—

—_swung _it—

—and the Kaizer dropped as fluid as water, right snapping up under Yasuhito's extended arm, hand around the wrist and _twisting_ until the man gave a rabbit-scream of pain. In the same moment the Kaizer pulled him around and elbowed him in the back of the head, kicked out his knees and slammed Yasuhito face-first onto the table.

"Damn," Daisuke muttered, heart thumping, aborting the reflexive grab for his waistline. "I should've done that."

The Kaizer bit off some dark word under his breath and straightened, tugging on his gloves again as Yasuhito groaned, sliding to the floor. "Take him with you," he ordered coldly to the associates, pushing him with a boot. Then, as the blond lost his nerve and bolted, ignored by the Kaizer and his group, the dark boy turned away and left the other two to relocate Yasuhito.

The Kaizer's gaze slid to Daisuke still on his knees. "On your feet, Motomiya," the Kaizer hissed with three steps in his direction.

_He **is **fucking crazy_, Daisuke thought, instincts flaring at the raw aggression in his stance and had time to appreciate the strength in the wiry arms when he was yanked to his feet before he could protest. His stomach suggested flipping him off would be better. "Hey, wait—"

"If you have a problem, Motomiya, you _tell _me—I do notallow infraction on the rules of this establishment, staff or not!" The Kaizer clipped his words off icily, stormed off with him in tow with no room for discussion. "The _next_ time you feel like doing something so brainlessly dipshit _stupid_, without _warning_, I will make you eat that tray, do you hear?"

"Yeah, could you just—"

"The posted rules will be followed at _all_ times and you should know because I _see _them sticking out of your pocket—"

"Hey—Hey, dammit, I didn't get a chance to—_fuck—_" Daisuke protested, but no response. _He's so fucking furious_, Daisuke thought helplessly, irritated and drawn to the wire-tight tension—but dammit, hot or not, he wasn't up to being dragged around when he felt dangerously close to puking. It hurt to walk. He couldn't even breathe right yet—Daisuke stumbled with his stomach's insistence that nausea was the way to go and yanked back his arm, desperate.

"_You're not helping_!" Daisuke half-yelled, hunching over with a snarky "Do you _want_ me to puke on your bitch-boots, asshole?"

—and that was as far as he got, intending to say more, but the Kaizer had reclaimed his grip on Daisuke's arm, yanked him around and pinned him to a black-painted pole before Daisuke could draw breath to say it. The club didn't exist at that moment; the music was the background pulse to his pain.

The Kaizer said nothing, one hand fisting the fabric at his shoulder to hold him there, the other gripping his chin nearly hard enough to bruise. Daisuke allowed his head to turn side to side, wondering how the Kaizer could see anything with those shades. Wondered just how strong he was, and if Daisuke was in the mood to take it. Watched the jaw tighten

"I don't have that much time to waste on you, Motomiya. Suck it up." the Kaizer finally murmured, the fury replaced with deceptive softness in his voice, pulling back and taking Daisuke's arm again.

"Asshole."

"Shut up and walk, Motomiya."

As the Kaizer pulled him off in a seemingly random direction, Daisuke heard a crackle in his ear.

"Kaizer?" 

"What?" the Kaizer growled.

"I see we have a few new names for the list. Everything clear on your end? Motomiya's not dead, is he?" 

"It's _fine, _Motomiya's _fine_, everything's _fine._ Takahara, go cover Motomiya's tables until he gets back from the Doc."

"…_uh, okay. No prob. Dammit! I can't believe I **missed**_ _that!" _

"Takahara!" the Kaizer barked. 

"_Okay, fine, I'm going!"_

_Doc? They have a doctor here?_ Daisuke thought, blinking, wisely keeping his silence. _Is there anything **else** I don't know about this place?_

"_Alright,"_ Akira said, blandly, amused. "_Don't take too long. There's a drunk on 2nd that might pick a fight."_

"I'll be right out," the Kaizer paused at a door set back behind a row of shielding pillars, pressing a hand flat to a door Daisuke didn't know was there. Daisuke heard a click and didn't see a latch. The Kaizer pushed it inward to a dark hallway and stepped through, pulling Daisuke behind him.

_What kind of place **is** this?_ Daisuke thought after a short walk through the darkness. Daisuke hoped he wouldn't stumble or empty his guts on the floor, when he felt the Kaizer stop again. He brushed against the arm where it linked to his.

"Clear?" the Kaizer asked, softly. Daisuke never heard an answer, but after a pause he saw the Kaizer illuminated from the light of a more familiar hallway. They'd come out, literally, from the wall between the Security room and one of the storerooms of the 'Staff Only' hallway.

Daisuke glanced back and watched it close seamlessly behind them.

_It's a fucking maze, that's what it is!_ Daisuke had a moment for one bewildered look down the staff-way before the Kaizer strode off for far end. All clear, no one in sight. Swallowing back bile, Daisuke noted that the Kaizer had a better spy-kit than he did, access to the info behind the info.

Something to think about, anyway.

They stopped at an unmarked door with chipped blue paint. Apparently, there was a doctor behind this door, and inside, it even looked like a doctor's office with a dozen beds stretching out along the narrow walls, guarded by machinery that beeped. There was even the standard bright fluorescent lighting, bland sound-muffling curtains and a sterile gray-tile floor.

The Kaizer pulled him by the wrist to the very back of the room where a make-shift shower curtain waited; the dark boy swept it back without warning.

A mild-faced man nearly jumped out of his chair, juggling the papers and a donut in his hands as he spun to face them. "K-Kaizer! Good god, announce your presence like everyone else—!" the man said just before he caught sight of Daisuke and his eyebrows shot up.

_Surprise! _Daisuke thought in the split second before the Kaizer answered, pushing down the insane urge to grin and laugh. _Hi Jyou, nice to see you—what the fuck are **you** doing here?_

"You should've heard the door," the Kaizer replied waspishly. "This is Motomiya—"

Jyou's eyes flicked to the Kaizer, and Daisuke knew the gesture. _Trust?_ the man had asked, silently. That meant the Kaizer didn't—_couldn't_—know. Sure the Kaizer wouldn't catch the motion, Daisuke minutely shook his head to the right.

"A-ah, I see," Jyou set his papers aside with the faintest of trembles, and after a glance to his donut, set that on the pile of folders. "Another victim?"

Daisuke grimaced, one hand resting gently to the side of his stomach, pale and still out of sight. Shaking the head wasn't the smartest move he'd made all night. Getting kicked in the face ranked the highest, thought—shit, if he didn't find something to puke in, anything—even a _shoe_ would do—

"Hardly. It's his first night as runner. He did something stupid and got himself jumped—"

"He's _what_?" Jyou echoed, shocked. "_Jumped_?!"

Daisuke snapped his fingers to get their attention, feeling the chill that preceded any kind of violent stomach upheaval edging up on him. Shit. Shit shit shit—this was _so _not cool—

Stiffening, annoyed, the Kaizer turned his head around with some acid comment ready to fall—for a second, amidst his stomach's declaration of independence, Daisuke was fascinated with the fact he could _see _the barest indistinct shade of those eyes behind those wicked-cool lenses—

—then, Jyou slid a wastebasket scraping over to Daisuke's feet. Somehow, Daisuke grabbed a fistful of curtain and never figured out how he made it to the floor without falling on his face, the basket becoming the narrow focus of his world—

—_gonna hurt like a bitch gonna hurt so bad_—

—and was violently, quietly sick all over the crumpled papers and Styrofoam cups in Jyou's garbage, spitting blood and bile with an anguished little whimper as the ache in his stomach went nearly unbearable. Clenched fingers around the plastic and gagged, unable to _breathe_ at the cramps and heaved again, finally coughing in air.

Why does this always have to happen to me? 

"_Shit_," Jyou exclaimed, there beside him, probing at his stomach. "You didn't get yourself _stabbed_ again did you?"

The Kaizer's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Nnngh," Daisuke groaned, shuddering and gagging and breathless all at once. "Fucker kicked me in the face. Cut my cheek—_ow_—" and slapped away Jyou's fingers when they brushed his cheek and the beginning of a yellow-purple bruise.

"Here," Jyou shoved a tissue into his hands. "Let me see, dammit—"

"I'm leaving. You have fifteen minutes to take care of it," the Kaizer said with a flat, queerly distant tone.

"He'll need stitches," Jyou said, prying open Daisuke's mouth to see the cut, despite the aggrieved noise he made Jyou's statement.

"Just take care of it!"

A second later, unable to pinpoint the meaning in the Kaizer's tone of voice or see his expression with Jyou's hands on his face, Daisuke heard the door slam. He blinked at Jyou.

"He's got somewhat of a dislike for blood," Jyou informed, amused. "Strange for such a ruthless person."

Daisuke raised a brow, disbelieving, and Jyou nodded before pulling out his spit-bloody fingers. "N'way," Daisuke grimaced, wiping his mouth. "Really?"

"Really." Jyou twisted on his knees and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and a small, metal tin. "So what are you doing here?! You can't be _serious_ about working here, Daisuke—"

"What? Hey! This job was completely random, I swear! I didn't even _know_ you worked here. What's the deal with that, anyway? What's up with this place? Spy-kits and doctors and goth-boys in leather—"

"I was hired, according to Akira, on my outstanding resume. Yamato got me the job, though." Jyou managed a wry smile, unfolding a towel over his lap and setting thread and two needles on the fabric. "Does anyone else know you're here, yet? Or even back in town?"

"Um, I don't know. I saw TK and 'Kari at school, Friday…so probably. Hey, do _you_ know the Kaizer's name?" Daisuke paused as Jyou took up something that looked like a small hair-spray bottle and shook it. "What's that?"

"Antiseptic and anesthetic. Open up. And what in the world would make you want to know his name?"

"But—I don't need stitches 'cause I've probably stopped bleeding, anyway—and I like his pants. I _really_ don't want stitches—"

"Daisuke—"

"I _hate_ stitches—"Daisuke protested, ducking away from restraining hands until Jyou cuffed him gently.

"You talk too much anyway, and I have a job to do. Open up." After a second, tuning out the exaggerated wincing Daisuke was making, he murmured. "I don't think his pants will fit you."

--

Daisuke left the hospice room with one hand testing the limits of his pain in his cheek. The stitches scratched at his gums and tongue; it ached dully as he slipped out of the staff hall and back into the pounding-music noise of the main hall.

_This totally sucks_, he thought. _What a great first night_. Gingerly, he worked his jaw and wondered if anyone would understand anything he'd say tonight.

"You were getting your ass kicked!" Takahara grabbed his arm and whirled around to Daisuke's front, almost jumping in his excitement.

"Fuck _you_," No problem with talking; Daisuke rolled his eyes. "There were _three_, and I held my own."

"Yeah, but we're not supposed to fight—you should've seen it! The Kaizer came flying—man, I never saw him take off like that—"

"Yeah?" Daisuke tried to speculate what the Kaizer-boy might have looked like, running over those narrow catwalks. _Like a cat, I bet._ He grinned and nudged Takahara. "He was just worried I was gonna kick their asses."

"You _wish_, Motomiya." Takahara staggered. "Oh, your humor's gonna _kill _me."

--

There was a secured private office designed to monitor _every _detail of the place, monitors for the multiple camera feeds, sound and the two part screen running red and yellow stats. One screen for the attending list. Red, green, yellow, if they were marked as dangerous or set aside for a different reason, it didn't matter. Akira could watch _every _single person inside the walls.

In fact, he was paused before one monitor, watching the Staff-way and the Kaizer stomping back to his job. The one next to it, after a three-password clearance, showed the room set up as the hospice. Because it sometimes showed some incriminating, and possibly dangerous moments, it was the _only_ camera-feeds hooked up that weren't under supervision.

"_He's got somewhat of a dislike for blood. Strange for such a ruthless person."_

Akira smiled to himself, listening to the conversation more out of amusement than worry, more preoccupied with the outcome of the Kaizer's temper over Motomiya's little stunt—but what he heard next didn't surprise him as much as the helpless laughter over what _this_ meant.

"_What? Hey! This job was completely random, I swear! I didn't even know you worked here. What's the deal with that, anyway? What's up with this place? Spy-kits and doctors and goth-boys in leather—"_

So Motomiya _did_ have ties to Ishida's gang. Interesting. Akira fiddled with a knob just below the screen and tapped the button labeled '_witness' _as Jyou spoke.

"_I was hired, according to Akira, on my outstanding resume. Yamato got me the job, though. Does anyone else know you're here, yet? Or even back in town?"_

"_Um, I don't know. I saw TK and 'Kari at school, Friday…so probably. Hey, do you know the Kaizer's name?"_ There was an anxious pause and Akira watched Daisuke eye the objects in Jyou's hand. _ "…What's that?"_

Akira's smile was edging into a grin. _That boy is out to be so much trouble,_ he thought. _Just what we need. _He pondered just how many ways Motomiya could screw up the system, not to mention how oddly the Kaizer was taking it.

"—_and I like his pants. I **really** don't want stitches—"_

Laughing, Akira turned away from the monitor. He reached the central console and tapped a few keys for the general systems display, switching it to a 3D diagram of the building, rooms, walls and every fixture. The floors swarmed with blue dots, each registering to a single ID. The green specs were the staff—and they didn't know it, but _all_ of their equipment registered them visible, even the providers and the eyes seated high in the shadows near the ceiling.

If Akira rolled his chair to the door, a dot would mimic his actions, unless he removed the headset. He leaned back instead, and hit the tab for the private com-channel. "Kaizer?" he called, watching the little black dot stalk along the image of a walkway. "What are you going to do about Motomiya?"

"_What?"_ A pause, then. "_What am I supposed to do, exactly? Congratulate him on a job well done?"_

There was a distinct frustrated noise and Akira had to fight to keep his laughter out.

"_He's **stupid** for getting himself into that situation—"_

"He held up pretty well; I think he'll be fine. Drop by after a bit and I'll show you how he smacked Uzumi over the head." Akira paused in case Ken had a choice word for him. Then, blandly, he murmured "…and it's not like you're _worried_ about him."

"Of _course_ I'm—" Ken snapped over the com, then viciously bit off his words. "I _hate_ you, old man. Stay out of my head."

--

3 am rolled around and Daisuke was exhausted with an aching mouth. He sat for a bit with his back to a pillar and watched the last stragglers get herded out by two bouncers. One of them was Nobusaki, the older man that had nudged him earlier.

"Hey, newb," spoke a more familiar voice and Daisuke turned to see Kyosuke grinning down at him. "You and I get to wipe tables; off your ass, slacker."

"What? Slacking? I ran _circles_ around all of you," he quipped, rolling forward and pulling to his feet. "What else do we have to do?"

Kyosuke tossed him a rag with a few steps backward and shrugged. "Clean-up time, but it rotates. This week, runners get to take care of tables, chairs and sweeping. We're pretty efficient, so hurry up. You wanna get home sooner, don't you?"

Daisuke made a groaning noise and exaggerated the strides he took after Kyosuke. "I'm already _dreaming_ of my bed."

"Yeah, after clean-up we get our tips, sign out and go home." Kyosuke laced his hands together and stretched them far above his head. "Man, tonight the place was _packed_."

"Tips? I didn't know we made tips."

"With a place this classy, we _roll _on money, Motomiya." Takahara called, two tables away. "If you don't keep getting your ass kicked, though. Man, you guys are _slow_—these tables don't absorb the dirt, you know!"

"Yeah, fuck you too!" Daisuke called back, laughing.

Half past three, Daisuke gathered with the rest of the staff, restricting himself to less talking and more smiles. His cheek throbbed and he had no idea if there were any painkillers back in his stack of boxes.

"Well," the Kaizer was drawling from the front of the group. "Aside from the occasional moron, it was relatively calm. Rika, you need to watch the pairs checking in; some of them are getting away with more than one partner."

"Of course, _sir_." Rika grinned. The Kaizer gave her the bird without missing a beat.

From the back, Daisuke could only get a partial view of the Kaizer. His hands were lifting and passing to each co-worker, murmuring a sort of summary of the night to each person and mildly suggesting a different approach.

"—and Takahara, I don't want to see you take more than two shots in a night, you understand?"

"… sorry. Won't happen again."

And then he was in front of Daisuke, who was more than tired and leaning against the rail this time. "Well done, Motomiya," the Kaizer started blandly. "—on getting your ass kicked. Try not to do it again."

"He hit me first," Daisuke nudged at the goggles on his head and shrugged. "I could've handled it, you know."

Daisuke caught a glimpse of a crooked curve to the mouth, and the faintest arching of the eyebrow. "Indeed, Motomiya, I'm sure. Don't make it a habit." The Kaizer took his hands and folded Daisuke's fingers around a folded wad off money.

"Dude, that's—" Daisuke glanced at it cupped in his palm. "That's too much—"

"That's less than half of what Rika makes, Motomiya. You can do better." The Kaizer was already turning away to the nearest coworker. "The doors open at five on Saturdays. Be here by three."

"Uh, sure, no problem!"

--  
_(Friday, 3:24 a.m.)_

The phone rang late that night, the last of nearly ten calls; Yamato groaned indignantly, close to sleep and dreading the early rise for work. "Goddammit, who the fuck wants to talk to me _now_?" he groped for the cell and fumbled it open. "_Fuck_ you for waking me up," he grumbled into the phone.

"Yama?"

"…Jyou?"

"I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, it's alright. What's up? Something weird happen at work?"

"No, not quite—" Jyou sounded tired and paused a moment.

"Let me guess," Yamato yawned. "You ran into Daisuke."

"I—why, yes. I did. Did you know he's working at the club?"

"Yeah," Yamato drawled. "I haven't had time to check it out though. How's the brat in black dealing with it?"

"The Kaizer? Oh, well enough. Tonight was his first night, he said." Jyou's voice held a smile. "Then Daisuke mentioned something about the Kaizer's name and his pants."

"Oh god, that's the last thing we need." Yamato slapped a hand to his faced and rubbed, trying to think. "Wait, what the hell was he doing in the hospice-room?"

"He called out some guy scamming drinks and the guy jumped him. I had to give him six stitches in his mouth, and he was puking blood in front of Kaizer..."

"…I'm going to kill him," Yamato muttered.

"Who, Daisuke or Ichijouji?"

"_Both_," Yamato exhaled and managed an exasperated noise. "Damn. Well, aside from the drama, what else is going on?"

"Not much. I haven't had any cases concerning our current project, but there's been a rise of loose-knots in the clientele, lots of shifty faces. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Okay. Let me know if something happens, or if more of that drug pops up."

"You know I will. Get some sleep, Yama."

--

"…_Yamato got me the job, though…"_

_I **knew** it_, he thought, a long moment where Ken heard nothing of the recorded moment but his own indignant anger roaring softly between his ears.He pulled off the shades as he twisted his head to stare in cold fury at Akira standing there, arms crossed and an unsuccessful attempt at concealing his amusement.

So Jyou belonged to Ishida.

"You should have _told _me," Ken hissed, nearly flinging his shades at Akira.

"What? I was asked not to, on the grounds that the less people who know, the better—"

"_I _need to know!" Ken snarled. The monitor continued its image as Ken pulled in one tight breath before continuing. "Ishida causes enough problems as it is; the last thing I need is him sticking his nose in. You _knew_ and didn't think it was important?"

"—_do **you** know the Kaizer's name?"_

Ken snapped his head to the monitor with a disbelieving look. "I am going to have to _kill_ him," he murmured in shock, unaware of it.

"…well, it answers any questions about Ishida and Motomiya." Akira reached out and tapped a few keys. "Do you still want me to search him out?"

"Yes," the Kaizer replied, bristling as _ '—I like his pants'_ echoed from the speakers. The only thing keeping Ken from slapping a hand to his face with an exasperated noise was the fact it would be witnessed.

"Look at it this way," Akira lifted a shoulder. "You've got one of Ishida's group; it's not a bad thing. If anything, it makes Motomiya all the more valuable."

"Valuable?" Ken repeated from behind the hand rubbing at his forehead, faintly incensed. "Tell me _how_ it makes him worthwhile, and I'll consider allowing him to stay."

"Depending on who else Motomiya knows?" Akira waited until Ken turned his wild-blue gaze on him. "I'd say that makes it worth a shot."

"…maybe," Ken muttered. "If I don't kill him first."

--  
_(saturday, 4:32 p.m.)_

Half-past five, Akira buzzed over the private-channel with unexpected news. _ "Ishida's demanding audience, as expected. You want him in?"_

Stilling into silence, Ken didn't reply, weighing the odds of the one reason Ishida would be showing up. _Swift as usual…_Exhaling a half-thought curse, he dropped the clip-board to the table and stalked off towards the entrance. "Is he alone?" he said with a glance back to make sure no one had noticed his sudden departure.

"_Yes."_

"Let him in."

His first glimpse was of Ishida glaring icily at Yutaka(2), who was on door-duty. Then, hands in his pockets, Ishida turned his head and focused his gaze on the approaching Kaizer, who knew the look was more for show. Ishida wouldn't have stopped by if it wasn't worth it. He pushed back gel-stiffened locks, adjusted his shades with a chill smile of his own.

"Ishida," Ken drawled, leaning on a shoulder. He waited until Yutaka had shut the door and left them temporarily alone. "Your presence, as ever, is irritable. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nice to see you too. I came to ask you something," the blond replied tonelessly.

"You mean Motomiya, don't you. I wondered when you'd pop in." The Kaizer smiled thinly and watched the blue-ice eyes narrow before he chalked up a point on his inner scoreboard.

_There **are **ties to Ishida. Permanent, irritating ties—_

"Something like that." Ishida lifted a shoulder. "How long has he worked here?"

"Mhmm…does that _really_ matter?"

"Dammit, you arrogant shit—You don't even know what you're getting into. You think he won't notice your…quirks, _Kaizer_?'

"So?"

"So?!" Ishida gestured violently. "I'm not here to play your stupid games. I'm here because he's a friend of mine! Do you even _remember_ what friends are?"

"Get to the point already."

"I don't want him involved. Daisuke isn't stupid." Ishida replied, flat and bitter, cutting the distance between them to less than five feet in the space of three strides, edging out his words. "There's a big difference between pretending you're not what you are at school when no one _knows_ you, and playing with someone who _will_—and from what I hear, you stupid brat, Daisuke already jumped Takeru over you and _I don't want him **involved** with this—"_

"_I'm_ not stupid, Ishida and no, it doesn't matter." The Kaizer slapped away the hand poking at his chest. "I do not _care_. I hired him because I decided he was the best choice. If Motomiya becomes a problem, then I will _deal_ with him as I deem fit. I don't see how you have any say in it. He agreed of his own free will."

—and thought, disquieted with revelation, _**I** was the reason he was so angry yesterday?_

"Do you even know what you're asking for?! I'm not just talking about Daisuke becoming your problem. I'm talking about _this isn't my jurisdiction_. I have no power here and the last place I want him to be is _here_. He could—" Ishida snagged the leather of his jacket and shook him once, furious enough that Ken merely tilted his head in response, more interested in analyzing such a rare temper. Ishida lowered his voice to a hiss. "Daisuke is the most infuriating, unpredictable little brat you will ever know—"

Ken didn't allow his smile to show as he thought of Yasuhito. "Oh, I'm sure he'll prove most useful."

"—and if he gets hurt again in your employment I'll do everything I can to _kill_ you, you hear me?"

Ken lifted a shoulder in mocking compliance, listening to the nuances of Ishida's mother-hen syndrome. It was a side of Ishida that he hadn't seen very often, something he had difficultly understanding.

The _problem _with deciphering Ishida's unexpected facets turned out to be Motomiya himself storming up behind them, unnoticed until it was too late and the redhead was pulling Ishida aside with little regard for the Kaizer's presence.

"Goddammit! Goddammit, Yama!" Motomiya said as he appeared from behind them, shoving at the blond's shoulder even as Ken twisted away from the blond's grip on his jacket. "What the fuck are you doing?" was his first, exasperated phrase, complete with a push to the chest. "What the _fuck_, Yama? Did TP tell you I was here? How the fuck did he know, anyway?"

Ken wasn't sure if he should feel irritated at the situation in general or the fact that he allowed someone to approach without notice.

"I'm talking to your boss, Daisuke, shut your black-hole of a mouth."

"I have no intention of finishing this conversation," the Kaizer replied mildly, wickedly raising a brow while Motomiya scowled. _This _could be very interesting. Useful indeed.

"No, _you_ tell me what you're doing here! Do I look like I need babysitting? Dammit, blondie, I'm fine! I'm fucking fine!" Motomiya threw his arms out to the sides and nearly shouting his words in frustration. "You _promised_! I don't need this shit, I can take care of myself and you _know_ that—" and stamped his foot.

Ken decided entertainment was meant to be enjoyed; he settled back and folded his arms over his chest, losing the battle with his smirk, taking careful notes on the conversation and the possibilities of its meaning. Even if he _was_ insulted at the lapse in attention.

_This is what I get for wanting to know?_

"Daisuke!" Ishida snapped, grabbing Motomiya by the chin to catch his attention. A terrible scowl was the only indication that he noticed the bruise fading from Motomiya's face. "This is Nathen's territory now, you remember Nathen? You _better_, because I'm sure he hasn't forgotten that stunt you pulled. Who hit you _this_ time?"

"Don't worry about it!" Stiffly, Motomiya yanked his chin away and the indignant anger faded to…something else. Ken had trouble telling what type of feeling it took to make Motomiya snap his mouth shut, but didn't care. It was another piece to the puzzle. He watched Motomiya duck his head, nipping at the knuckle of one hand, the other at his waist.

_Nathen, _Ken marked into memory.

"…damn, that's all I fucking need," Motomiya pushed away the hand and scrubbed at his hair, exhaling, opening his mouth to say something just as Ishida cast a deliberate glance in Ken's direction.

"Oh, don't mind me," Ken drawled as Motomiya followed suit, expression flattening at the sight of the Kaizer still behind him with one shoulder against the wall. Ken could see the frustration in the set of his face and guessed that Motomiya hadn't wanted him to know just how far his ties stretched. He itched with the urge to say _Tell me about this **Nathen**_and said, instead"It's quite the show."

"Don't you fucking start, goth-boy!"

The Kaizer bared his teeth in a smile. "You should get back to work." He noted the way Motomiya snapped his mouth shut and glanced back to Ishida, the slight nod in response.

"_Now_, Motomiya," the Kaizer said with his own warning stare at Ishida. "Dally later, on your own time." He didn't have to turn and watch the redhead leave to know when he was out of earshot; Ishida's gaze flickered back to him and focused.

"I don't think he should be involved with this because it's _dangerous_ for him, you understand? He doesn't have to try to piss people off and I'll _kill_ you if he gets hurt, _Kaizer_."

In reply, the Kaizer straightened and stood close enough to murmur warningly "Ishida, I didnot _know_ of the link to your…friends when I decided. I did not _know_ until yesterday afternoon when he spoke with that twerp brother of yours and _despite_ it all, I _will not _refute this. Get over it. Besides," he finished smoothly, mockingly, "_harm_ is the furthest objective on my mind."

"Your _objectives _better not include Daisuke in any way. I _know_ each and every weakness you have, _Ken_," Ishida whispered in a voice for him alone. "I won't hesitate to call them."

"Duly noted." The Kaizer adjusted the lenses and allowed a razor-white smile. "Go away, Ishida. I have a business to run."

--

"How'd it go?" Taichi asked from the passenger seat. He slurped from his soda. "How much did he piss you off this time?"

Silent, Yamato turned his head to give him a flat glare and slammed the door shut.

"That bad, huh?"

Yamato leaned back in the seat. The sigh he let out was both tired and annoyed. "I don't think he knows." A pause. "Either of them."

"You make it sound bad," Taichi shifted in his seat and buckled in. Yamato turned the engine and strapped in. "So, come on. What happened? Why'd I have to stay in the van, anyway?"

"Ichijouji's got something going on—and the last thing I need is you and Daisuke in the same room as the Kaizer. There's too much shit stinking on Nathen's plate and Daisuke showing up out of the blue…" Yamato drummed his fingers on the wheel as he pulled out into traffic. "I got a bad feeling with Daisuke there, that's all. I don't trust Ichijouji not to use him."

"Hmm. Maybe. Who _knows_ what happens when Daisuke's around."

"Mm-maybe. I don't know yet."

"It might be good for them."

"—and _suck_ for the rest of us," Yamato muttered.

Taichi laughed and smacked his shoulder. "We taking bets yet?"

"I thought this was a _serious_ conversation, Tai."

"Oh, come on, think about this. We've got Daisuke, irresistible when he wants to be, and Ichijouji, who could _definitely _loosen up a few notches. I'm betting—"

"Don't forget that Daisuke gets two shots," Yamato replied blandly. "Didn't Hikari tell you Daisuke's going to their school?"

"Oh shit, that's right," Taichi grinned. "Five bucks if Daisuke hooks up with the Kaizer first."

"Five if he gets into a fight over Ichijouji at school."

They paused and glanced at each other, then chorused "You're on!" and smacked their fists together.

--

"Man, was that _Ishida_?" Takahara yelped as Daisuke came around the corner. The energetic young man peered around him briefly and laughed sharply. "You know Ishida Yamato? Holy shit—I thought for _sure_ you were gonna get the crap kicked out of you again—"

"Takahara forgot his medicine today," Dark-haired Yuichi, the 3rd floor provider, explained with a pained look. "Ignore whatever he says."

"Hey!" Takahara aimed a foot at Yuichi, missing and using Daisuke's arm for balance. "Wait, hey, does that mean you're in a gang? Doesn't Ishida have one of the stronger groups around here?"

"And where did you hear that?" Nakayama, Yohei's provider, rolled his eyes. It was the first time Daisuke had heard him speak the entire night. "You're worse with gossip than a girl, Takahara."

"_Rika_ told me."

"No, it's…" Daisuke shrugged. "I'm friends with his friends, he was just checking in, really. My sister probably told him to check in."

"Yeah, but—"

"Crap, Takahara, don't you ever stop?"

"—but why's he talking to the Kaizer, then? You don't think the _Kaizer's _in a gang, do you? That'd be pretty sweet."

"It'd explain a lot," Daisuke replied with a grin. "But I doubt it. He seemed really annoyed with Yama, though—"

"Yeah, they're always like that," Nakayama said quietly, smiling. "Every time Ishida stops by, the Kaizer's pissed off for hours."

"Oh yeah?" Daisuke mused, slightly puzzled. "So Yama…stops by a lot, huh?"

That meant something _else_ was going on. Pieces were starting to fit; the spy kits, Yama, the whole weird system, hell even the drugs—Yamato knew more than he'd say.

_But what?_ Daisuke thought. _What purpose could this place serve?_

--  
(3:17 am)

"Then what _do_ we have, besides scattered bits of film? Haven't you _found_ anything about who or its source? Dammit, old man—"

"Calm down," Akira replied, indifferent. "We know there's only a few involved, but without knowing the 'who-knows-who' part, we can't tell when any of this group is involved. I can only do so much."

Ken made some irritated noise from where he was leaning over his own monitor, the club silent and empty of everyone but the two of them. Tonight had gone smoothly, but it left Ken with a bitter, on-edge feeling he couldn't force away. "We need to findthem. Perhaps we need to install more cameras?" he asked sarcastically, waving regally towards the entire room (at last count there was 53 monitors).

"We could use them with the tables, maybe. What about the dance floor?"

"We need to _find_ them," Ken replied, annoyed. _To find them, I need to know who would dare—_His eyes narrowed in the flash-memory of Ishida and Motomiya and importantly, their words ringing solidly _ "—Nathen's territory—_"

No wonder Ishida was always so eager to hear the gossip of this place.

"…What do we know about someone named Nathen?" Ken uttered softly, almost gently, with a hard-edged glint of a smile.

"Name isn't familiar," Akira glanced at him and raised a brow, already typing. "Where'd that come from?"

"Ishida mentioned something about this was 'not his jurisdiction' and Nathen, apparently," Ken leaned back in his chair, belt clinking as he crossed his legs. He held up his hand with an presenting motion. "—is the name of the one who's in control of it. We'll start with that and see what we dig up."

--  
(2nd week, Monday)

Daisuke had the phone installed in his apartment early that morning, using almost half of his tips from the weekend to set up the account and pay the first month's fee. The first thing he did with it was call his sister before nine just to piss her off.

"What do you _mean, _you've got a job? What job? Where? You aren't doing something _stupid_ again, are you?"

"What? Oh come on. I'm working at a club and it's not that bad. Jun—I walked away with more than two-hundred, Jun. Two hundred and that's just the tips! I only work the weekends and I make a shitload of money. I _love_ this job."

"I don't think that's enough to pay all your bills, stupid," his sister replied, flatly. "Come on, Daisuke. Think—how much is tuition gonna cost you? Rent? Food and all that other stuff? Make damn _sure_ you're gonna have enough."

"…you're such a bitch."

"You love me."

"Sure, if I can ask you for all that extra money I'll need?"

"Fuck no. You're a big boy now. You've got all this time before school starts, so get another job during the day. _Duh_, stupid."

"…such a_bitch_," Daisuke muttered.

"Yeah, well, thanks for waking me up."

The phone clicked. Daisuke stared at it in consternation and fell backwards on the bed. Fuck finding a job today; he was going back to bed.

--  
(2nd week Tuesday afternoon)

"Hey, I saw your sign…" Daisuke grinned nervously, charmingly, held out a hand. "Motomiya Daisuke! I was wondering if you're still looking to hire?"

The man in front of him shook it appraisingly. "Well," he said gruffly. "Fujito Hisoka. You look a bit young."

"Yeah, I'm seventeen, but I just moved here and I don't start school until next month."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you're probably overstaffed with a place this nice," Daisuke exhaled and straightened his spine. The paper folded and shoved into his back pocket crackled. "I'm not looking for full time or anything, just the evenings during the week. I've got a part-time on the weekends, so that's out, but I work hard and if you have an extra spot, great. If not, that's okay."

The middle-aged man frowned and hummed to himself, thinking behind an unreadable face. "Can you start tonight?"

"Yeah?" Daisuke exclaimed, flashing a grin. "I'm cool with that, what time?"

"Twenty minutes. Ichiro's shift ends and I'm short. Tonight's a busy night. Follow me and I'll set you up, pay you cash if it works out. Sound alright?"

"I _love_ cash."

--

On Thursday after school, Ken was in the car and heading for the outer reaches of the city. There was no talking in the car; Ken stared through the window without seeing anything they passed. The only time he reacted was when the car slowed and turned. It had been nearly twenty minutes of silence and they were almost there.

Then they were, with his mother turning to smile at him. "Are you awake, dear? We're here."

Dutifully, Ken unsnapped his seatbelt and exited the car. Tobishi, his father, took Ritsuka by the arm and Ken followed them inside. The restaurant was noisy and packed and Ken could feel the edges of a headache lurking.

He spent the next hour or so picking at his food and listening dully to his father, nodding at the right moments.

"—and what happened at tryouts this year? There's no way you wouldn't make captain, so—"

Ken sighed. "I didn't try this year."

His father's fork scratched over his plate. "I thought we talked about this," he snapped, stiffly. "You need to do more than just study—do something you're _good_ at."

"—now, stop that. Ken's at the top of his classes—"

"But we both agree," Tobishi said with a look from mother to son, "that our son spends too much time burying himself in books, he should find something more appropriate for god's sake. He's seventeen and all he has to say is _grades_. Kids his age should have girlfriends, at least—"

_As appropriate as a club, perhaps?_ Ken thought bitterly. _Knowing how to disable someone in less than ten seconds?_

"Tobishi, that's enough," Ritsuka clucked. "Ken, dear, how's your food? You've barely touched it."

"It's good, Momma. Masayo's on the team. He graduates this year. I'll try out next semester, I guess."

"Is he still picking on you? I should speak to your principle—"

His father made a disgusted noise at the comment from his wife and threw down his napkin. "Stop babying him. He's _seventeen_, he should be able to stand up to some punk and he _could_, if he dragged his head away from those damn books."

_I already **can**,_ Ken thought bitterly. _If I choose to._

"I've lost my appetite," Tobishi pushed his chair back, disgruntled. "I'm going to pay; you two wait by the car if I'm not back in a minute."

As they gathered their things, his mother said, "You know he's only worried, right?"

"Yes, Momma."

She sighed in a way that Ken knew she wasn't aware of. "You're such a good boy. I'll just be a moment." She patted his arm as she passed, heading towards the restrooms.

Ken wished it was Friday and a different world entirely as he wandered off after his father, waiting for him along the wall, head down, lost in thought. Busboys and wait-staff flitted back and forth in the minute or two it took for Tobishi to return from paying. A minute of enduring the stony silence turned into two, standing side by side with his father.

His father glanced at his watch; Ken ignored the not-so-lurking headache, idly flipping through a mental list of things to prepare for—

—heard a _crash_ of porcelain—

—and from the side, there was a startled cry—Ken's head shot up—

"Momma—?" and Hen reached her side in moments, skidding on the greasy remnants of food. One of the busboys must have tripped. "Momma!"

"Aw _shit_ I'm so very sorry!" the busboy to blame for the accident exclaimed, scooping food and a few shattered plates back into his plastic container. "I didn't see her until it was too late—"

"I'm alright," his mother said, with Ken helping her to her knees.

"_M-Motomiya_…?" Ken strangled out the sound, feeling liquid seeping through the fabric at his knees. This _couldn't_ be happening. Fate was laughing its ass off, he knew it.

"—and if the floor wasn't wet I wouldn't have slipped at allI swear_—Ichijouji?!"_ Motomiya gaze darted to the spill of food and Ritsuka and back to Ken, flustered and off-guard. "Uh…hi?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" Tobishi reached down to take the arm of his wife and help her up.

"Oh _god_ are these your parents? I totally ran over your _mom?!_ Where's a hole to hide in when you need it—" Wide-eyed, red-faced, Motomiya scrubbed food-stained hands on his equally messy apron, anxious. "I'm _really_ sorry, really really sorry—"

"Oh, I'm _fine_," his mother fussed, brushing away Tobishi's hands. "Really, now. He didn't even run into me."

"Motomiya!" bawled Fujita, storming up behind them.

"I'll pay for it, I swear!" Motomiya protested. "I slipped, it's all my fault I'm _sorry!_—"

"You bet you'll pay," his father grumbled. "You're damn lucky I don't call a lawyer—you sure you're okay?"

"Ichijouji-san, I'm so very sorry, it's his first night—"

"Ken, honey, do you know this boy?" his mother asked, ignoring the question.

In the fog of his shock, still thinking _this isn't happening, this isn't happening_, Ken replied vaguely. "He'll be attending school next semester."

Motomiya grinned sheepishly between peeling foodstuff off his shirt and shaking it from his fingers. "Yeah, that's…_ew_…"

Ken couldn't help it; Motomiya was covered in it. It was…Shoulders shaking, hand trying to hide it "You look—" he managed before it started again. "_horrible_ in noodles."

"Hey, but I'll eat for a week with this shirt!" Motomiya plucked at his shirt. "I'm a walking buffet."

Off-center from his control, too busy feeling his heart spasm in disbelief—Motomiya had somehow managed to show up _everywhere_ and surprise him again—Ken plopped to his butt and laughed uncontrollably.

For a second, Tobishi glanced bewildered to his wife, who seemed just as startled. It'd been a long time since anything like laughter had passed their son's lips. They watched as Motomiya grinned shamelessly back, then Tobishi reached out to nudge Ken's shoulder.

"We're going, son."

Ken glanced back with his clear blue gaze, hid it behind lowered lashes and hair before he rose gracefully to his feet. "Have a good night, Motomiya," he said as he turned away to follow his parents.

"Yeah, nice running into you!" Motomiya waved cheekily.

Ken had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.

"He seems nice," Ritsuka mentioned blandly on their way out. "I'd like to see more of your friends, Ken; you should invite him over sometime."

Ken shrugged without replying, not trusting his voice, not trusting his _response_ and wondered at how easily Motomiya had won over his parents by making such a mess.

--  
(2nd week Thursday)

Just after three, Daisuke sat cross-legged down on the ground in the middle of the school exit since he had no idea what classes his friends were in. By the time the bell rang and the students started filtering out, he had his headphones on, trusting his friends to spot him.

_Like they're gonna miss me, sitting out in the middle of traffic,_ Daisuke thought, grinning shamelessly at the girls whispering behind their hands, giggling.

A minute later, Takeru was walking by with Hikari. Daisuke winked at her when she saw him first and burst into laughter.

"What the hell?" Takeru did a double-take. "What are you doing, sitting in the middle—wait, don't bother. What do you want now?"

"Hey, I came to see if you guys wanted to check out my place!" Daisuke scooped the headphones off, rising to his feet and brushing off his backside.

"We're waiting for Iori, right?"

"Sure!"

"You know, you _can_ call us and let us know ahead of time; Yama was gonna pick us up."

"That's cool, he'll probably want to come too." Daisuke grinned and laced his hands behind his head. "Hey, I just got my phone Tuesday, and I don't work tonight. It was a random thing, really."

"So now we're random?" Hikari teased.

"Isn't _everything_ random with him?" Takeru asked. He twisted his head to scan the crowd, spotting Iori high on the steps yet. "Iori!!" he called, waving.

"How _is_ work, Daisuke?"

"Which work? I have _two_ jobs," Daisuke replied smugly. "Beat that, bucket-hat."

"I don't _have_ to work," Takeru grinned. "Beat _that_."

"Moocher."

"Retard."

"Hi," Iori said, hitching at his backpack as he finally made it to where they stood. He nodded to Daisuke. "Nice to see you again, Daisuke."

"Iori, man, you need to keep TP here in line. He's getting a mouth on him."

There was a catcalling noise from the direction of the school; almost as one, the four of them glanced back to the granite steps to see Ichijouji tugging away the shoulder-strap of his bag. The farthest one away, Daisuke caught Takeru rolling his eyes and turning away without a second look. Hikari gave a worried sniff, glancing back to Daisuke as if to say _See?_

Daisuke furrowed his brow as Ichijouji successfully removed the strap from the grip of a scrawny, mean-looking boy, without a word or protest or change in expression. Daisuke could hear the laughter of the three students trying to entertain themselves with harassment echo all the way to where he was standing.

"Yamato's here," Iori stated.

Then: "_Daisuke? Daisuke!"_ hollared a voice he recognized.

Whirling, Daisuke missed the expression of Ichijouji's shock at the sight of them (and the way he stumbled on the last step) because Taichi was out of the van almost before it stopped and running towards them.

"_Taichi_!" Daisuke screeched out the happy response, then half-shrieked with laughter as Tai pulled him into a bear hug and spun. "God put me down _put me down!"_

"_Look_ at you," Taichi said after he'd spun a third time to the sound of the others laughing. He held Daisuke out at arms length and grinned as broadly as he could. "Heard you came back, and you didn't even _tell_ me. I'm disappointed and ashamed, clone-boy."

"What? Hey! I didn't have a phone!"

"You know where I _live_, stupid!"

"Don't you have anything better to do than run around?" Yamato drawled as he strolled up.

"I don't have school, don't have to work, and if you think I'm going sit around and scratch my ass instead of party, I'll have to kick your ass 'cause you're _crazy_. You guys want to see my place?"

"Did you walk?"

"Your apartment? Is there beer there yet?" Taichi grinned again and ruffled his hair. "All grown up and living on his _own_…aw, Yama, we're such good parents!"

"Yeah, I walked. Does that mean you'll give me a lift?"

"We're all going!" Hikari chimed in. "You guys might as well."

"Yeah, well, come on then," Yamato glanced at his watch. "I've got practice in an hour."

"Hey," Taichi said as they all started to migrate to the street and where Yamato's van waited. If Daisuke had turned his head he would've seen Ichijouji passing close by, eyes averted in full 'invisible' mode, still trailed by the three students from before. "How you like working for the _Kaizer_, Daisuke? Yama says—"

"Wait—" Takeru said, surprised enough to pause a step.

"What?" Hikari blinked.

"You're working _there?!"_

"—that you had to get stitches. _Lame_." Taichi made a face. "How many were there, anyway?"

"Yeah, uh—there were _three_, dammit. I think I did pretty well."

Takeru gave Taichi a raised brow, then smirked teasingly. "Poor _Daisuke_—"

"Hey, shut up 'cause it fucking _sucked _getting stitches, TP. Let me poke needles in _your_ mouth and see how you like it."

"So what's he like?" Hikari latched onto his arm, and Daisuke stuck his tongue out at Takeru. Everyone, even Iori, seemed to pause as they waited to hear Daisuke's reply.

"The Kaizer?" Daisuke mused for a moment, then grinned wickedly. "I'm totally hot for his pants."

--  
(2nd week Friday, 10:27 pm)

Daisuke didn't know they were there until he walked up to the tale in the corner, the shadowed one that always seemed to have some sort of problem attached, and heard a voice greeting him that he hadn't heard in six months or so.

"And the rumors were _true_, Motomiya Daisuke, that you were back and hanging around. But to _see_ you here, well…I'm pleased beyond expectation."

Nathen, the brain behind the body of one of the city's more dangerous gangs, pleasant and mild-natured to talk to. Great. Flicking a neutral gaze to the unremarkable young man with dun-colored hair, Daisuke tilted his head and replied, "Nathen. Wondered if I'd see you. How's life?"

"Wait, what? _This_ is Motomiya? _The_ Motomiya Daisuke? No way. No fucking way this little tampon—"

"Akao," Nathen murmured. "Don't be _crude_."

There was a punk sitting next to the broad-shouldered Nathen that Daisuke didn't recognize. He wondered if he was Kenichi's replacement, since Kenichi had taken Nathen's right for as long as Daisuke had known him. Daisuke remembered with a distinct shudder he'd been offered that spot once. To take his mind off it, he asked "He must be Kenichi-chan's replacement. Figured you'd get rid of him, since I kicked his ass and put him in the hospital. He ever make it out?"

"Yes, but you ruined his hands, you know."

"Fucker deserved it," Daisuke replied blandly, still eyeing Akao. "_He_ worth anything?"

"Oh, he's better than some. How have you been, by the way? I heard you spent some time in the hospital yourself."

"Yeah, I suppose I did. Dad caught me—" Daisuke narrowed his eyes. "No thanks to you. So what do you want?"

"Simple things, really," Nathen folded his hands at the level of his face. "I've had sort of a problem, here."

Daisuke didn't seem to be impressed. "Okay, so?"

"_So_, I'd like your help in resolving it."

"…and that's all you're going to tell me?"

"I'd prefer someplace private; perhaps you'll have lunch with me, soon. For now, let's just say we're friends."

In the moment before Daisuke replied, the Kaizer was slipping silently down the shadows on a cable with the pillar to shield him and no sound to give him away. He had no qualms about listening in; he'd find out much more information this way, if his suspicions were correct.

"You never change," Daisuke shook his head and focused sharply on the other male. "I don't know," he said bluntly. "Let me think about it."

"Fair enough," Nathen took up his drink and sipped. "Until we pass again, Daisuke."

Turning to leave, Daisuke merely raised a brow in the face of Takafumi, who wasn't moving out of his way fast enough.

"I'm tellin' you, we don't need him," Akao said from behind, sneering. "He looks like some scrawny wimp-ass little—"

"Leash your dog," Daisuke snapped a glare over his shoulder.

"—little _bitch_," Akao finished smugly.

"Akao, right?" Daisuke wheeled to face him, stalking two steps closer and stared him down fiercely. "You're Kenichi's replacement. You know what I did to him? I was quick enough to puncture his lungs in three different spots, and as he was choking on his blood I slashed the tendons in his hands so he'd never smack around anyone. _Ever_. Back off or I'm peeling the skin off your dick."

"…_Yasuharu_," Nathen murmured, sounding bored. "Not even _I _risk pissing off Daisuke, so shut your mouth."

"I don't need you steppin' in, Nathen," Daisuke snapped. "—and you, Akao, don't fuck with me."

"Tch. Whatever." Akao leaned back and flipped him off with contempt, then added a 'suck it' gesture for good measure.

Daisuke drove the pencil an inch into the table, snapped it in half while he snagged Akao's hair before he could react and pulled him close with one knee braced on the edge, the jagged end aimed at Akao's bloodshot, murky brown eye.

"Last warning, asshole."

There was a pause while Nathen pinched the bridge of his nose and protested mildly against the loss of another second, and the remaining members held their tension and waited to make a move.

Then a different voice joined in.

"My _my_," the Kaizer drawled in cold smoothness. "What interesting people you know, Motomiya. _Do_ introduce me after you've put down the pencil."

Daisuke shoved Akao back into his chair and retreated a step back, staring without expression at the leather-clad Kaizer sliding from the shadows with a distinct _tchk_ of his boots, hands folded at the small of his back. "Where the hell did you _come_ from?"

"You must be the Kaizer," Nathen murmured with a secret smile of his own.

"Who the fuck is that?" Akao muttered, flushed and irritated.

"_You_ must be Nathen," the Kaizer replied blandly. "Having a good time?"

Nathen's eyes narrowed too slight to notice. "It's been a pleasure."

Daisuke laced fingers through his hair and looked bored. "Is this where I get the '_Get back to work'_ line?"

"I didn't feel up to dragging your ass out of another fight, Motomiya, so yes. Get back to work." The Kaizer smiled thinly, and without quite knowing why, tilted Motomiya's chin with two gloved fingers. "But don't go far…I need to discuss another matter with you."

"Sure," Daisuke said, after a pause and a twitch at the corner of his lip that suggested a smirk.

The Kaizer pulled his hand away from the sensation of Daisuke's jaw moving under his fingers. Then his gaze rolled to Nathen and dismissed any thought of Daisuke, who was already sauntering away with a off-tune whistle.

"While we're on the topic of fighting…and with no need to explain the rules of the house to you, I'll just say this," the Kaizer spoke, voice icing over into malevolent warning. "I will not hesitate to_ break you _if you forget your place."

The look in Nathen's brown eyes was a mix of hate and wariness. It would do. The Kaizer gave a glimpse of his wolfish grin and stalked away into the shadows.(3)

--

Daisuke turned around on his way back from a table and saw the Kaizer along his path, leaning with his back to a supporting pillar. He spun the tray in his hands out of habit and didn't try to avoid him by dodging off into the throngs of people. _I bet I'm in trouble, again_, he sighed, mentally preparing himself for another bitch-session.

"And _what_ did he want from you?" the Kaizer asked without expression, without preamble.

"I don't know; he didn't tell me yet. He probably thinks it's the way to make friends or something. What did _you_ want, Kaizer?"

"I'm seeking answers, Motomiya." The Kaizer lifted a hand and waved it dismissingly, voice clinically flat. "And I take this matter most seriously. There is someone, perhaps _several_, who cause problems in my system. I want you aware of everything around you, Motomiya, and tell me if you see something…out of hand."

"Uh, like…what?"

"_Any_thing, Motomiya. Can you do this?"

"…is it for a good reason?"

The Kaizer inclined his head and replied softly, reflective, "The highest."

--  
(2nd week, Saturday, 3:18 am)

"Hey, newb!"

Daisuke turned to see the girl named Tokiko, small and curly-haired, walking up to him with a box cradled in her arms. "Yeah?"

"Can you run to the storeroom for me? We're running behind and I need a load of towels for the provs. You got time?"

"Sure, if I knew where it was."

"It's at the end of the staff-hall, you can't miss it. You can read, right?" Tokiko grinned at him. "Thanks, newb!"

"Hey, it's cool. Where you want me to put them?"

"I'll be at the far end, where Yuichi is."

"Alright," Daisuke waved over his shoulder and headed off with nothing better to do. Scanning the doors on each side of the wide hallway, passing the blue hospice door with a grimace, Daisuke went all the way to the end to find a door, any door that could be it.

There was only one labeled "_STORAGE_", set back apart by two other unmarked doors in the hall.

Daisuke tried the handle and found it locked. "Guess that's gotta be the one…" He eyed it and wondered if it was going to be a waste of time going to find the key.

--

Tired, the Kaizer shut the door behind himself and pulled off his shades. The last two nights had passed relatively calm; Ken tolled his neck to stretch tight muscles and undid his shirt as he passed his desk. His back crawled with unspent tension. Just because it all went well didn't mean there was no threat.

_There's always a threat. It just hasn't happened._ He paused just long enough to tap a few keys on his laptop out of habit, then dropped the fabric over the back of the chair.

He never heard the faint click of the lock—for a second as the door swung open, caught between desk and bathroom, it wasn't happening. It _never_ happened—

—shit the _door_—

--

One hand on the knob to prop open the door, Daisuke tucked the stiff wires back into the pocket on the side of his pants and slipped through into the dark room. "Okay, towels," he murmured. "Light, light, where's the swi—"

—something slammed into his side and hit him into the wall. Before he could react or protest, hell even _breathe_—the same force twisted him around and face-first into the door, snapping it shut.

"_Fucker!"_ Daisuke cursed breathlessly, fingers itching with how close to _broken_ that was, indignant to be slammed against a door in the first place—he kicked back and struggled, twisting—

—and found himself pinned with his back against the door, one bare muscled arm over his throat, the other gripping fiercely at his hair.

"How the _fuck_ did you get in here?!" someone snapped, pressing tight on his hold.

"—_Kaizer!?_ What the hell?" Daisuke couldn't move anything but his hands, disturbingly pleased to realize they were pressed flat against the Kaizer's chest.

The Kaizer wasn't wearing a shirt.

Oh god.

"Answer the question, Motomiya!" the Kaizer growled. "I keep that door _locked_ at all times—"

"Are you naked?"

"…_excuse_ me?" the Kaizer strangled out, shifting out of shock. Daisuke felt the rush of air that the boy sucked into his lungs and assumed it was shock; sitting in the dark, he couldn't tell.

"Uh," Daisuke winced at the return-shift of pressure on his throat. "Hey—"

"This is _my room_," the Kaizer snarled, apparently recovered, trying to flatten him through the door. "I was _changing_ when you— damn you, just answer the question."

"Shit, I uh—" Flushing, heart thudding, Daisuke pushed back in protest, choking down whatever sound came searing up his spine and was that a nipple against his fingers?

…_oh god_.

"I picked the lock," Daisuke gasped, annoyed. "Lay off, asshole."

"You _picked_ it," the Kaizer echoed flatly in faint disbelief.

"Yeah," Daisuke scowled and hoped the Kaizer could feel it, since there wasn't any light. "It used to be a bad habit; now it's my excuse for a spare key. So what? I didn't know, um, that you were going to be naked."

"I am not naked!" the Kaizer straightened, indignantly smashing Daisuke to the door until he could only kick out at him.

"So I guess it's a bad time to say you're hot?" Daisuke rasped the first thing he could think of, and winced more at the unintended choice than the reacting squeeze.

For a space of twenty-some seconds, the Kaizer didn't speak. Daisuke heard him draw a short, absent breath, then he heard a confused, faint "You think I'm _hot_?"

"Uh," Daisuke froze for a heartbeat. "Well, yeah. You got some nice—pants."

The Kaizer didn't seem capable of response.

"—unpredictable my _ass_," the Kaizer muttered distinctly, but Daisuke wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond. Then, sounding flustered, the Kaizer yanked him forward by the shirt, pressed way too close and slid his hand behind Daisuke, right against the small of his back. Daisuke thought for _sure_ the words "Hot" and "Naked" were going to be conjugated right then and there and were already fighting for the order to go first.

"I'm _hot_, am I?" the Kaizer mused, flexing the arm around Daisuke's middle, and all he could do was shiver through a gasp and try to breathe—

—then, something clicked and the Kaizer was uncoiling his arm to spin him around and Daisuke was blinded by sudden light.

_He opened the door, he wasn't making a move at all he was just— _the door opened and, twisted away from the warm, naked skin, Daisuke stumbled through it with a glimpse of one pale, curving shoulder—

The door slammed shut behind him almost before he felt the firm little shove between his shoulders.

Heart thudding, Daisuke waited two seconds before he hollered back, "Hey! Where's the goddamn storeroom, then!?"

-

Tbc

-a/n – well. That was fun. XD. What do you think, people? next chapter has dancing, make-out sessions (FINALLY!) and Daisuke starting school. Oh, and Ken gets thrown in a pool.

…what? it'll make sense, I swear. Besides, it gives Daisuke an excuse to save him.

1 – Keiichi is one of the 'eyes' stationed in the rafters. Nobusaki, Hisato and Eiji are all bouncers.  
2 – Yutaka is one of the floors, responsible for the bracelet distribution. After the doors shut, he monitors and reports color-status.  
3 – Nathen, Akao Yasuharu and Takafumi are members of a gang (uh...no shit?); they play an important part of Daisuke's past. I hope it'll make sense when I write out that scene.


End file.
